


Anything Bad

by okteiviablake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blake Family, Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, blake siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 143,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okteiviablake/pseuds/okteiviablake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far would you go for your family? What if you had to live a double-life, just to keep the people you love safe? What if you were raised with the knowledge that you could never leave a tiny room? This story follows the Blakes from childhood to their landing on Earth.</p><p>Alternating POV-story with Bellamy and Octavia as third-person narrators.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1- Bellamy

Seven months before his life started, his mother Aurora sat down with him at their little table and said, “Tell me about Chancellor Gattis. What have you learned about him at school?”  
  
Bellamy was five years old, still a few months off six. He considered the question carefully and then he said, “The Chancellor is our leader, elected by the people. He or she is always noble and strong, and is chosen to make sure that everyone stays safe, works hard, and so that the human race survives, forever.” He smiled at her, proud that he’d remembered all that.  
  
Briefly, Aurora smiled back. She didn’t confirm what he’d said, but she didn’t argue it either. Instead she asked him, “And what do you know about the law? About people getting floated?”  
  
Bellamy looked down at his hands and then said quietly, “Hunter’s dad was floated. She was out of school for a while, but even when she came back, she was really sad. She still is.”  
  
“Do you know why her dad got floated?” Aurora asked him, gently. When he looked at her, her gaze was intense, and he sensed that this was important.  
  
He nodded and whispered, “He stole.”  
  
“What did he steal?” she pressed.  
  
Bellamy shifted uncomfortably, not used to such direct questioning. “Food.”  
  
Aurora drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Her dark eyes seemed angry as she said, “Do you think he stole food because he was bad?”  
  
Tentatively, Bellamy met her eyes, and then he shook his head. “He stole because Hunter was hungry. He loved her, like you love me.”  
  
His mother’s smile was big and proud. She reached out and stroked his hair for a moment, nodding. “That’s right,” she said. “And who gave the order to float her?”  
  
Again, he felt uncomfortable, but he said, “Chancellor Gattis.”  
  
“Yes,” she said, cupping his chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you think that was fair?”  
  
“No,” he said, so sure of that answer. His mother nodded her agreement, and then she stood up, putting his colouring book in front of him. Obviously, the conversation was over. He watched her step to their tiny bathroom and turn on the tap to fill a glass with water. The pipes rattled for a moment, releasing a few drops, but then the flow stopped and nothing more came out.  
  
Aurora let out a heavy breath and told him, “The Chancellor has water all day, every day. Is _that_ fair?”  
  
Bellamy didn’t reply to that, but he couldn’t help but say, “My dad was floated.” His memories of his father were brief and far away, but he knew that’s why he wasn’t here. He remembered his mother crying and crying, the way he’d threaded his toddler hands through her hair, trying to fix her broken heart.  
  
He watched his mother freeze, and he regretted his words instantly. The intensity of her look made him squirm as he looked down at his colouring, wishing he hadn’t spoken. Softly he whispered, “Sorry.”  
  
“No,” Aurora said finally, softly. “You’re right, he was floated.”  
  
“For stealing food?” Bellamy asked cautiously, not sure how far he could take this. His mother didn’t like to talk about the past, didn’t like to talk about her husband, his father.  
  
“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “For something else. But that wasn’t fair either, Bellamy.” She returned to the table and sat down next to him, taking his shoulders in her hands. He looked into her eyes as she said firmly, “What they tell you in school is a lie. The things that people are floated for… sometimes it is fair. Sometimes people do terrible things, like killing or hurting other people, and then maybe they do deserve to float. But stealing food to feed your family because you don’t get enough, while other people have too much… like how some people have water all day every day, and we don’t, but we all live on the same station... is _that_ fair?”  
  
He could hear her passion, but he felt overwhelmed, not sure why she was telling him all this. The fact that he could sense how important it was to her made it seem even more urgent, and therefore made his uncertainty all the more upsetting.  
  
Suddenly, he burst into tears. Aurora seemed to soften, and she crouched down next to him, pulling him into her arms and holding him close to him. “My brave boy,” she said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”  
  
“Mom?” he whispered, clinging to her. “Did you… are you going to get floated?”  
  
When she didn’t answer right away, he panicked, and his tears turned into sobs, and then into wails. She held him close, tightly, murmuring softly into his ear, but all the comforting words in the world couldn’t chase away his fear. Finally, when he calmed down, she pulled back from him and held him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes. “Bellamy, listen- I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to get floated, as long as you don’t tell anyone about this conversation. Okay?”  
  
He swallowed down his fear and nodded. “Okay. I won’t, I promise.”  
  
She stroked a hand over his hair, and her smile was a gift as she said, “Good boy.”


	2. 2- Bellamy

Four months before his life started, their nightly bedtime tales had changed from mythology and legend to stories about babies, about pregnancy and childbirth. How a baby would grow and grow, curled into its mother’s stomach, and how after it was big enough to breathe on its own, it would decide to come out. How it would take a while to arrive, and it would hurt a lot, but afterward there would be only joy.  
  
They looked at photos, drawings of babies tucked under their mothers’ organs, curled up and sleeping, and pictures of development- he marveled at how they started as a tiny little thing that didn’t even look human, and ended up as a perfect, smiling baby with big eyes and little fists.  
  
Aurora told him about his own birth, about how it had felt, how she’d acted when she was in labour, how his father had felt when he’d watched. She showed him photos of women giving birth, and then borrowed a video display unit from a friend so she could show him births in live action.  
  
She told him that babies could come anytime, that they were unpredictable, but that a mother’s body always knew what to do. She taught him how to help.  
  
She showed him photos of all sorts of babies, and arranged for him to meet some, hold some, learn how to quiet them, how to change them and bathe them, rock them and soothe them, to watch how they were fed, and how to fashion a sling or a wrap out of a blanket, how babies like to be held close to the chest.  
  
She never told him how babies were made, but he didn’t ask. What he _was_ being told, shown, was fascinating enough.  
  
When he had a good foundation in babies- loving them, being captivated by them- she changed the theme of their bedtime stories again. This new trend was disturbing; now she told him stories of what happened when women defied the Ark’s one-child policy, how they were floated with breasts still dripping milk, how their babies grew up motherless through no fault of their own. His heart broke for those women, for their babies.  
  
The games they played started to take on a singular focus- who could be the quietest? Who could tell the most convincing lie? Who could hide the best?  
  
She gave Bellamy a doll and had him practice everything he’d learned, making games of it- how long can you be still? What if someone is looking for you? What if you feel scared? What if the baby cries? What if, what if, what if?  
  
She would pretend to be an inspector and make him stay as quiet as possible, make him pretend that the doll was a baby trying to cry. She taught him how to quiet it, how to slip his finger between its lips, how to whisper into its ears, to keep his voice barely louder than breath.  
  
His mother filled his head with stories of tyrants, dictators and emperors- historical men and women who oppressed their people- and she told him about all the unfair policies on the Ark. Through these stories, he learned the sanctity of discretion. He learned that what was said at home should never be repeated, and what was said at school should not always be trusted.  
  
The only reprieve from these more serious topics was when she regaled him with fables and legends about the bond between brothers, or between brothers and sisters, about how fierce that love should be. She told him about the responsibility of older brothers, the lifelong bond that united them to their siblings, about how in ancient times, before the Ark, it had been normal for families to be big. She told him that by limiting each family to one child, the laws had oppressed them, made them miss out on amazing part of human life- the relationships amongst siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, and uncles. The unfairness of _that_ was easy for him to accept.  
  
Aurora never told him that _she_ was pregnant- at such a young age, he could have blurted it out to anyone. But as her stomach grew with each passing week, as her clothes became baggier, and when she started staying in their quarters for longer and longer hours, taking her work home with her, stitching long into the night, he began to suspect the truth.  
  
One night, when he crawled into bed with her after a bad dream, he could feel the strength of the baby’s kicks. They both laid there, awake and gazing at the ceiling of the little bunk, and Bellamy’s hand crept under the hem of his mother’s shirt. He laid his palm against the tight skin of her belly and for a moment there was nothing. Then, as if by magic, he felt the sharp jab of a little foot, evidence of the tiny life inside. It was surprisingly strong, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as he looked up at his mother. She smiled back at him, but never said a word.  
  
So he knew that a baby was coming. And he knew that his mother already loved it- he had caught her, many times, stroking the swell of her stomach, or placing a protective hand over her belly as she moved around their quarters, humming softly to her unborn child.  
  
He was never jealous, but he _was_ scared, and he _did_ worry about what would happen once his brother or sister was born. All of his mother’s stories, the preparation, they helped- but reality was something else, and sometimes he tossed and turned all night, worrying about it.  
  
When he went to school, he had to pretend that everything was normal. He had once been gregarious and carefree, with lots of friends, staying out until dinnertime playing in the corridors or at a friend’s house. Now he felt alienated from the children who had once been his playmates, like he was living in a separate universe.  
  
The other children would talk about normal things- their parents, grandparents, friends, the things they did outside of school, but Bellamy couldn’t talk about anything in his own life. Rather than lie, he stayed quiet. His once chatty, sociable and outgoing nature faded away, and he became withdrawn, discreet. His teachers decided he was shy.  
  
As he was so young, his memory so short, and time so abstract, the pregnancy seemed to stretch on and on forever, and his anticipation with it. So, despite all the preparation and planning and stories and instruction, the day his mother actually went into labour somehow managed to catch him by surprise.


	3. 3- Bellamy

The day his life started, he was finishing a project for school when there was a knock at the door. His mother had been acting strangely for the last hour, but he was still surprised when she answered the door to the mother of one of his friends, the one who usually walked him to school with her own son, and said that Bellamy was too sick to leave their quarters.  
  
In actual fact he felt fine, and had been looking forward to school that day, to showing off his hard work. The assignment involved placing various cards with pictures on them in the correct order to form the complete life cycle of a frog. Bellamy loved frogs, and when no one was looking, sometimes he hopped around his quarters on all fours, ribbiting.  
  
As much as he wanted to go to school that day, the strain in his mother’s voice, the tightness that pulled at her forehead once she’d closed the door, silenced any complaints he might have had. As soon as the woman was gone, his mother removed the oversized sweater that hid her belly so well.  
  
Over the course of that day, she grew gradually more restless and uncomfortable. Bellamy ensured that she ate and drank, and waited nervously each time she went into the bathroom, only relaxing when she emerged again and he could see she was okay. He watched her anxiously as she paced around the room, eventually shedding the bottom half of her clothing and then pulling the blankets off her bed- the lower of their two small bunks- and laying them out on the floor.  
  
Bellamy watched her face contort, watched as she pulled up her shirt to stroke her belly, which was as tight as her expression until the pain passed again. She kept pacing for a long time, until it seemed she would fall asleep on her feet, but finally she sank down onto the edge of her own bunk and breathed deeply. Bellamy mopped her brow with a cool cloth, fed her sips of water and small snacks. Throughout, he peppered her with questions. “When is the baby coming? Are you okay? Why are you making that sound? Mom, I’m scared- can’t we get a doctor? Or I could go get someone to help you- another mom?”  
  
“Hush now, Bellamy,” she whispered a few times, but eventually she just fell silent, rocking on the waves of her pain, and he stayed at her side, a small knot of fear, trying to remember all her lessons- reminding himself that when the baby came, all this pain would be worth it and she would be fine. Happy, even.  
  
But when that baby did come, he also knew everything was going to change.  
  
At one point he got down to eye level with her huge belly, watching the skin tighten as she breathed through another pain. He whispered, “Come out now, baby. Mom’s so tired. It’s okay. It’s okay, just come out. We’ll look after you. We’ll love you forever if you just come outside.”  
  
He felt his mother’s eyes on him, and despite her exhaustion and the pain she was feeling, she gave him the softest smile, like she had never thought he was sweeter than this moment, had never been more proud of him.  
  
An hour later, he finally got his wish. The pitch of his mother’s breathing and the tone of her voice changed dramatically, frightening him all over again. She refused the food and water he offered her, and her sounds deepened as she started grunting with each pain. He thought she was dying.  
  
“Mom, please, let me get a doctor,” he pleaded, one last time.  
  
“No,” she insisted, her voice a near-roar, urgent. She had braced herself on the bunk, her whole body tense, bathed in sweat. “You can’t tell anyone. Tell me what happens if you do.” When he didn’t answer her immediately she ordered, “Say it!”  
  
Terrified but trying very hard to be brave, looking into his mother’s pain-twisted face, imaging he was watching her death, he managed to stutter out, “You- you- you get floated!” He knew that consequence by heart, but she had never really explained the reason- even amidst all her lessons about tyrants and unfairness and what families were _supposed_ to be, she had never really told him why they were the way they were on the Ark.  
  
“I don’t understand,” he said, his fear getting the best of him even though instinct was telling him to stay quiet. “Why is it wrong to have more than one baby?”  
  
Clearly, this message was so important that his mother forced herself to reply, even in the throes of her pain. “The Ark-” She grunted again, breathing hard, gritting her teeth, gasping. “It couldn’t survive. The Chancellor can’t allow it.”  
  
Bellamy couldn’t remember ever having been so scared. He struggled to understand what insane logic would have forced his mother into such a position as this. “He’s like that emperor Augustus, right?” The Chancellor they talked about at school was noble and strong, powerful and admirable, but at home, his mother had made sure that her son understood he was an oppressor who persecuted his people for the most innocent of crimes. Augustus was a frequent analogy, but Bellamy secretly liked some aspects of the man. He had been cruel at times, but had he not also accomplished great things?  
  
“Yes,” Aurora whispered, and even through her pain he could see that she was proud of him for learning his lessons so well. “That’s right,” she said. “He’s just like the emperor we read about.” Maybe she wanted to say more, but with the next pain he saw the baby’s head and his mother demanded the blanket. Bellamy handed it over hastily, just in time for her to catch the emerging child in her hands, wrapping it up quickly.  
  
He watched, and in some part of his mind, behind the fear, he was amazed- like his mother had just performed some kind of magic trick. Or a miracle.  
  
He helped her wrap the baby up and then, suddenly, his mother’s entire demeanour changed. She was still sweaty and pale, but it seemed like her pain had simply evaporated with the birth of her second child, and his relief almost knocked him over. She offered the baby to him then, placing the squirming thing into his arms. He had seen many photos and videos now of those first moments between a new mother and child- remembered words like ‘bonding’ and phrases like ‘falling in love’ to describe that first meeting between mother and child.  
  
“Oh, my brave boy,” she sighed warmly, smiling gently at him. “You have a sister.”  
  
Instead of Aurora, it was Bellamy who had the first hold, he who stared into eyes that were wiser than he had ever imagined, and he that experienced a rush of unbelievable love for this helpless little thing that shared his blood.  
  
Bellamy looked down at the warm, helpless little infant he held on his lap. He had seen babies before, but none so brand new as this, and he was amazed at how tiny she was, how perfectly formed, how big and curious her eyes looked. He hardly noticed the blood that covered her body and clung to her skin as he locked his gaze onto hers, and she looked back at him as though she’d known him from the dawn of time.  
  
“You should name her,” Aurora whispered.  
  
Bellamy was still feeling that rush of love for his new sister, and the idea of getting to name her gave him a swell of absolute pride. He knew he had to name her something good, and the first thing that popped into his mind was that emperor, Augustus, whose sister had been powerful in her own right. The two of them were nearly inseparable, and that was what Bellamy wanted too.  
  
“Augustus had a sister,” Bellamy told his mother, smiling a little, realising that he might be the first person in a century to know what it was like to be a brother. Augustus might have been a tyrant like the Chancellor, but his sister had been respected and admired by her people, and Augustus had loved her. Plus, he liked the name.  
  
“Octavia,” he declared to both his mother and sister, deciding right then and there that that would be her name. And, like another miracle, she was suddenly a person- a named person, someone with an identity. Even if she was known only to the two of them, she was still real, and she deserved a good name.  
  
Octavia fussed, turning her head into the blanket, her lips puckering cutely as she searched for milk, and then she started letting out the cutest little complaints. He was captivated by her- how she was so little yet so strong, so new and yet so aware.  
  
“Bellamy,” Aurora warned, her voice weak with fatigue. “You can’t let her cry. Here, give her to me.” But even as he began to pass the baby over, he could see that his mother’s body was going limp, and she was sinking into the floor, losing energy fast. Her face tightened momentarily with what looked like pain, and Bellamy’s fear returned like a fist in his stomach.  
  
“No,” he said quickly, tugging at the sleeve of her shirt. “Mom, Mom, you can’t fall asleep.” He was painfully aware of how fragile the child in his arms really was, how much she needed her mother, and how dangerous it would be if anyone knew she was here.  
  
“I’m so tired…” Aurora whispered, her head sagging over to look at the two of them together. “Your sister,” she said with the last of her conscious breath. “Your responsibility.”  
  
The baby started wailing, but Aurora didn’t- or couldn’t- do anything about it. “Mom, Mom!” he cried urgently. “Mom, what do I do? Mom!” But she just slumped back against the bed- fainted or asleep or dead, he didn’t know. And there was nothing he could do about it, no one he could call for help.  
  
It was a lot for a six-year-old to bear.  
  
Bellamy felt the panic rising in his chest, but almost immediately he forced it down, knowing that he had no choice but to get control over his breath, knowing that he was the only one here for Octavia, the only one keeping all three of them safe. He knew, deep inside, what to do- his mother had taught him well, he _knew_ that, he just had to calm down and remember.  
  
He looked down at the baby, her wise eyes staring back at him, her little mouth puckered, lips searching, letting out dangerous sounds that might draw others to them. He tried to shush her gently, but she kept fussing, so he touched his finger to her lips, praying that she would accept it. Octavia grasped onto him with her mouth, sucking in his finger as though she was starving. But now she was quiet. He had done the right thing.  
  
Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief, trying to calm himself further. As he gazed at his sister, he felt a sudden jolt of surprise as he realised just how much he already loved her- fiercely, almost like pain, but good. Was it that easy? Is that what babies did to you? Or was it just her- something enchanting about those eyes?  
  
“See?” he asked her softly, giving her a smile and shaking his head just a little, feeling in awe of her- how little she was, how perfect- his baby, his sister, his responsibility. “I told you,” he said softly, repeating what he’d said when she was still inside their mother. “It’s okay.”  
  
Octavia’s eyes flicked towards his voice and she paused, looking very much like she was listening closely to him. So he leaned his head over her and said earnestly, so there would be no doubt that she would hear how much he loved her, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Octavia. I _promise.”_  
  
Eventually, she fell asleep, and carefully he replaced his finger with a corner of the blanket before laying her down on the floor.  
  
Their mother, as it turned out, was still alive after all. He tried not to be frightened by the blood that had soaked the blanket beneath her, or the big meaty thing between her legs, tied by the cord to Octavia’s navel. He knew from their lessons that all of that was normal, but still it was scary to actually witness- the smell of blood lodging in his nostrils.  
  
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on one problem at a time.  
  
First, he had to wake his mother up. Getting the cloth wet with icy water again, he passed it over her face, and gradually she came back to consciousness.  
  
“Mom, there’s blood everywhere,” he said, frightened as he realised there was a semicircle of saturation on the mattress above her too. Was she dying? He knew that everyone lost blood when they gave birth- that it was extra blood, unneeded now that the baby was out. But how much was extra? Was this _too much?_  
  
“It’s okay, Bellamy,” she said softly. “I’m okay. I just have to get up and have a shower, eat something, and I’ll be fine.”  
  
He helped her up, supporting her to the bathroom and waiting nervously outside as she washed. Luckily, Octavia stayed asleep, munching her corner of blanket. Bellamy kept busy to calm his nerves, cleaning up the trail of blood that led from their bunks to their narrow little bathroom, but he couldn’t do anything about the mattress or the blankets except stack them together in a heap.  
  
He worried about his mother, wondering how she could survive losing so much blood. He imagined her dying, keeled over in the shower, leaving him alone to raise Octavia in secret all by himself. He knew he wasn’t ready for that.  
  
Finally Aurora emerged from the bathroom, pale and wobbly but still alive, and dressed again. Her stomach was much smaller but he could see it shaking beneath her shirt, like jelly. Octavia was curled up, arms and legs tight against her body, her little baby breaths coming softly as her lips still worked the blanket every once in a while.  
  
Bellamy studied his mother closely as she eased herself down onto the floor next to the baby and beckoned her son to her side. He cuddled in close to her and watched as Aurora unwrapped the baby’s blanket, inspecting every inch of her daughter for the first time, making sure she was whole and perfect.  
  
Bellamy already knew that she was.  
  
His mother tied off the cord tightly with string and let him cut it. He was surprised at how thick it was. “There,” she said when it was done. He noticed how satisfied she sounded, how happy. “I may have given birth to her, but cutting the cord officially brings her into the world.”  
  
Bellamy looked up at Aurora with a grin and asked, “Really?”  
  
“Really,” she answered with a tired but genuine smile.  
  
Bellamy gazed at his sister, mesmerised by this tiny little being that had grown to perfection inside their mother’s body- he could hardly believe it, that just an hour ago she’d been suspended in water, cocooned within Aurora’s belly, and now she was in the world.  
  
He knew he would do anything to keep her safe.  
  
Hurrying to gather up the last of their rations, he fed his mother a haphazard meal, but she ate it like it was the best food she’d ever tasted. Together, they both watched the baby sleep, then looked at each other and smiled matching smiles. Bellamy felt excited, happy, and terrified all at once, his stomach fluttery with the knowledge that he and his mother now shared a secret that could get her floated.  
  
Their moment was soon shattered as Octavia stirred, letting out a small wail. In unison, both he and his mother tensed, and quickly they worked together to silence the whimpering baby, Aurora hastily pulling up her shirt as Bellamy handed his sister over.  
  
Neither of them relaxed until she was firmly latched onto the breast, drinking fervently, any little sounds she made now muffled against Aurora’s skin. Only then did mother and son slump against each other with relief.  
  
And then his life began.


	4. 4- Octavia

Her first memories were of being surrounded by loving care, tenderness and warmth. As a baby, a toddler, and even a small child, Octavia was never left alone. If she cried, she was picked up. If she was hungry, she was fed immediately. If she was tired, she was put straight to bed, with another warm body- mother or brother, she didn’t mind which- cuddled up to her until she fell asleep. She spent most of her pre-walking days in a makeshift sling, warm and content, snuggled up to a heartbeat, a breast, a familiar voice, a loving embrace.  
  
The Blake household revolved around keeping her quiet, the day-to-day struggle of maintaining her silence, until she would be old enough to understand its dire importance for herself. As a result, that realisation came early.  
  
Octavia didn’t know it, but she was a strange baby.  
  
Maybe because she sensed from a young age that quiet was of paramount importance to their lives, or maybe because she was never left alone for fear that she would start to fuss, she almost never cried. When she did, it was muted, like a kitten’s tiny mewls, and only if she was shocked or in pain did she let out a true cry. When that happened, she would be silenced almost immediately with a breast against her lips, a pair of arms around her- or, if all else failed, a hand over her mouth.  
  
Even her laugh was quiet.  
  
Her family still had to appear normal. Bellamy still had to go to school, and Aurora still had to go to work, but the two of them split parenting in those early years like shift work. Bellamy would get himself ready for school in the morning, being as quiet as possible while his mother and sister slept together in the bottom bunk.  
  
Bellamy would go to his lessons, and most days he would have trouble concentrating because he would be worrying about Octavia, about what could happen if she was discovered, or because he was deprived of sleep. He was always the first one out of the schoolroom, and he endured relentless teasing for it, from children who had once been his friends. It hurt, but he had much more important things to worry about- while his classmates were giggling, playing, complaining about homework and joining after-school activities, he was at home, raising a child.  
  
Aurora would wake about an hour before Bellamy returned from school. She would prepare their dinner, which they ate at an absurdly early hour, after which she would leave for her night shift as a seamstress, and Octavia would play with Bellamy all afternoon. Before bed he would feed her, and then they would get into his bunk and Octavia would curl into his stomach. He would wake with her throughout the night when she was hungry, snuggling back into bed with her each time. When their mother came home in the early hours of the morning, she took her daughter into her own bed, and Bellamy was free to rise and prepare for another day at school.  
  
Together, they made it work. But Octavia had no concept of how much of a struggle her early years really were. From her perspective, even after she was born, she was still wrapped up in a womb of love.  
  
The most stressful influences in their lives came from outside the cocoon of their quarters, as Ark security subjected everyone to regular surprise inspections. When she was still tiny, Bellamy would strap her to his body and wear baggy clothes, cuddling her close whenever he was home during an inspection, keeping her quiet while their mother handled the guards, who never really noticed him- a child being below their interest. When Bellamy couldn't be there, Aurora found other ways to keep her second child from being discovered- ways that Octavia never knew about, and that Bellamy never explained.  
  
Her first word, like many children’s, was ‘mama,’ but her favourite word was ‘Bell,’ and she often breathed it like it was sacred, looking at him with her big blue gaze, adoring him, worshiping him. He could do no wrong in her eyes- his antics were always hilarious, his games always fun, and his stories always captivating. Their mother was their mother, but Octavia spent more time awake with her brother, and he never ceased to liven her days. Everything he did, everything he said, she loved.  
  
Since Aurora usually spent the majority of Bellamy’s school day asleep, Octavia learned at an early age how to play alone- quietly, like everything she did. By the time Bellamy would get back home, she was always dying to see him. She knew her brother rarely played with other children, knew that as soon as he was out of his quarters he worried and stressed over whether his family would be safe that day, whether they would be there when he got home.  
  
Each day when he walked through the door, his eager excitement was matched by hers, and they always grinned at each other the moment they were reunited. Bellamy seemed to love how her face lit up as he came through the door, and he always stood still and held his arms out to let her crawl, and later run, straight to him. She loved to hit him with the full force of her little body and feel the strength of him in her arms, his solidness, as she anchored one of her tiny hands into the soft hair at the back of his neck and held him tight.  
  
Octavia couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t know there was a world outside their quarters, but when she was little, she didn’t yearn for it yet- that would come later. At that time, their home felt like a bubble of safety, not a prison.  
  
Often they had only seconds of warning, minutes if they were lucky, before an inspection. When she had grown too big to hide convincingly under his shirt, Bellamy would crawl into their little shower with his sister clutched tightly in his arms. He always tried to breathe evenly, to hide his fear, so as not to frighten the toddler clutched against his chest, but she was a perceptive child and she could always feel the tension in his body. She knew intuitively by then that she couldn’t make a sound while there were unfamiliar voices in the next room. So Octavia would burrow into her brother and hold her breath, terrified but silent. She never saw the inspectors, so she imagined them as hideous monsters, and she worried for their mother, alone in the main room with them.  
  
In those instances, Aurora would tell security forces that her son was sick, and they always steered clear. Once, when Octavia had nearly reached her first birthday, the first anniversary of her hidden life, Bellamy had had to improvise when the guards were particularly insistent that they see every inch of their quarters. He wrapped Octavia in several towels before burying her in the basket of the family’s dirty clothes. She stayed quiet, but afterward she could see the strained faces on her brother and mother, as both knew how close they’d come to losing everything.  
  
After that, their mother became more paranoid, and she was home less and less. Octavia was too little to know anything about what kept her so busy: a new, second occupation on top of her career as a seamstress. Aurora’s children didn’t know that she had started visiting with guards, paying them favours, because they were never relationships and so there was never evidence of any of it. It took place entirely away from their home, and it was nothing more than a business deal - the inspection schedule in exchange for the use of Aurora’s body. Even as they grew up, if Bellamy ever knew, he never let on to his sister.  
  
Constantly, daily, both children were reminded that if anyone ever found Octavia, she would be taken away, Aurora would be floated, and Bellamy would have to carry on, alone and miserable. Octavia grew up knowing that story better than any nursery rhyme. It even overshadowed the myths and legends that their mother liked to read to them. She and Bellamy would whisper it to one another as they fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms. When it got too scary, he would pull her close and press her cheek against his chest, where the familiar sound of his heartbeat would soothe her fears and lull her into a deep sleep.  
  
Their mother was always encouraging their closeness, trying to keep their bond as strong as possible. The rare times that they argued or bickered like normal siblings, she was always quick to remind them- her son especially- that one day the two of them would be alone. When that time came, Bellamy would be a man, and Octavia a woman, but where he would be independent, Octavia would always need him to bring home food, to provide company, to be her companion… to make her happy. Aurora made him promise over and over again that he wouldn't leave his sister, that he could never let anyone hurt her.  
  
But Octavia knew that her mother needn't have bothered. By then, her brother had told her many times how, on the day she was born, he'd made that vow to her all by himself. He had told her, and continued to tell her now, that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her- not _ever._  
  
So she never doubted how deeply he loved her, because she knew she was the centre of his world, just like he was the centre of hers. They would always be there for each other... no matter what.


	5. 5- Bellamy

Kids were pouring out of Factory Station's schoolroom, chatting to themselves about the day's lessons. Bellamy, at nearly eight years old, had solemn dark eyes that darted quickly around him, taking in everything. As usual, he was the first one out of the room, and he had a guarded expression on his face, his shoulders slumped with fatigue. He kept his head down, hugging his arms around his tablet.  
  
As he was leaving the school, a few of the kids turned toward him and sneered. A couple stepped forward, and a brave one gave him a push- to the delighted, cruel laughter of the others.  
  
"Running home to Mommy?" one taunted him.  
  
"Scared of the big bad Ark?" another jeered.  
  
“Oh, I’d better get back to my quarters before a monster gets me!” a third one mocked.  
  
A couple of the other kids chimed in with insults too, and Bellamy was shoved a few times from various sides. He felt tears stinging his eyes, but it was only partly because of how hurt he was- mostly he just wanted to get home, and anything that prevented him from doing that caused a pit of anxiety to rise into his stomach.  
  
Some of the children now taunting him had once been kids he'd called friends, playing games with them and running, carefree, through the corridors only a couple of years ago. Most of the time they ignored him now, but every once in a while this happened- like they suddenly noticed him, noticed how strange he was, and decided to harass him about it.  
  
"I have to go home," he kept saying as they laughed, blocking his way, shoving him backward. "Stop!"  
  
"'I have to go home!'" one of the kids imitated him, his voice high and mocking. "What, home to your whore of a mother?"  
  
Bellamy hung his head, clenched his fists, and a single tear worked its way down his cheek. Then, like a switch flipping over, the rage overpowered his hurt and he gritted his teeth, dropping his tablet and launching himself at the boy, tackling him to the ground and hitting, slapping, and punching him.  
  
Drawn by the commotion, the teacher, Ms. Lambie, rushed out of the school and grabbed Bellamy roughly by an arm, pulling him off the other boy.  
  
“That’s the third time this month!” she exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and frowning deeply into his face.  
  
“He _started_ it!” Bellamy protested.  
  
“Every time you fight, you say the other kid started it- but _you’re_ the only common denominator here.” She swept up his tablet, gripped his arm, the other kids snickering as she began to pull him away.  
  
“Let’s go talk to your mother.”  
  
“No!” Bellamy protested immediately, struggling in her vice-like grip. “No, you can’t… she’s- she’s not even home.”  
  
“Then we’ll just have to go to your quarters and _wait_ until she comes home,” Ms. Lambie said firmly.  
  
Bellamy felt a total panic attack rising in his chest. His breathing came quickly and he started to see stars, started to feel like his heart was beating out of his chest. He struggled against her, yelling, then crying. Some of the other kids followed, laughing at him. Bellamy was seriously considering kicking her, just to get away.  
  
“That’s enough!” she snapped at the other kids, silencing their jeers to quiet laughter as she shooed them away.  
  
She continued to drag Bellamy by the arm down the corridors towards his quarters, and the whole way he fought her, cried, begged her not to take him home, which only seemed to make her more and more determined to do so.  
  
No matter how much Bellamy screamed and wailed and raged and begged, it only seemed to make his teacher more certain that she wanted to take him home, that she had to speak to his mother.  
  
By the time the door of his quarters door loomed ahead, Bellamy’s face was pale, his palms sweating as they got closer and closer. A few metres short of the entrance, he suddenly felt his stomach lurch, and he wrenched his arm away from his teacher, vomiting right there in the corridor, sick from absolute terror, his face burning in shame.  
  
Ms. Lambie seemed shocked, and gingerly she put a hand on the back of his neck. “Bellamy,” she said gently. “Is something going on at home?”  
  
“No,” he said quickly, still retching. “I’m just sick. I need to go to bed.”  
  
She frowned at him. “Okay… let’s go inside and get some things to clean this up with, and then I’ll put you to bed. I’ll stay with you until your mother gets home.”  
  
At that, Bellamy barreled upright and ran for his quarters, throwing over his shoulder, “I’ll get a cloth and a bucket!” Before Ms. Lambie could say a word, he had run inside and slammed the door, leaving her alone in the corridor, standing next to his pile of vomit.  
  
At nearly two years old, Octavia was small even for her age, the result of inadequate food and very little exercise. When he crashed through the door of their quarters she froze like a deer in the headlights, but as soon as she saw her brother her face just lit up. He could see tears on her cheeks- she’d been left alone, who knew for how long.  
  
Bellamy breathed the hugest sigh of relief as she toddled over to him, wrapping her arms around his legs. Bellamy knelt down and hugged her properly, inhaling her scent as though to reassure himself she was there.  
  
“Octavia, you have to hide,” he said, trying to keep calm so he wouldn’t panic her. “Okay? There’s a monster coming and you have to be really quiet so it won’t get you.” That was the code he and Aurora used for inspections, and he knew it would work now.  
  
The baby’s lip trembled but she didn’t make a sound as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “No monster,” she whispered, her voice tiny. “No, Bell.” She pulled at his clothes, scared for him.  
  
“Don’t worry, O, I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “As long as you stay quiet, the monster won’t see you. And I’m too smart for any monster to ever get me. But we have to hurry- okay?”  
  
His sister looked like this was the last thing she was okay with, but she drew in a shaky breath and nodded her head. Bellamy led her by the hand into their tiny bathroom, quickly dumping the family’s small basket of dirty clothes. He lifted Octavia into it and then covered her in the laundry- their fallback hiding place.  
  
“Stay here,” he said gently. “And don’t make a sound until I come and get you. It’s okay, Octavia- I promise.”  
  
Then he ran, grabbing together a bucket and filling it with soapy water before taking it out into the corridor along with a cloth.  
  
Ms. Lambie had her hands on her hips. “What took you so long?”  
  
“Sorry, I had to puke again,” he said, kneeling down and starting to scrub the floor. His teacher supervised him, and then when he was almost done she started heading for his quarters. Bellamy’s froze, and then trembled- proof of what an unbelievable amount of tension was contained by his little boy body. He rushed through the rest of the cleaning and then ran after her.  
  
Inside his quarters, Ms. Lambie was looking around as though she was trying to figure something out. Bellamy relaxed, just a little- as usual, Octavia wasn’t making a sound. “We should put that down the toilet,” his teacher said. “It’ll smell up the room if we don’t.” She reached for the bucket, but he jerked it away.  
  
“I’ll do it.” Before she could argue, he’d gone into the bathroom, emptied the bucket, flushed, and cleaned it out.  
  
“You’re a very responsible little boy,” she said, sounding surprised.  
  
“My mom’s not here,” he answered, closing the bathroom door behind him and standing between it and her. “I told you.”  
  
“I _will_ be speaking to her about this later,” she told him, then softened a little. “Bellamy, what is going on with you? I remember how happy you used to be, so carefree, always playing with the other children. Why are you making things so difficult for yourself? Why do you rush home every day, if no one’s even here? You could have friends again- wouldn’t you like that? Why don’t you join one of the after school programs?”  
  
Bellamy felt his eyes fill with tears and he looked at the floor, trying not to cry, mortified, hating how she was reminding him of the fact that he really _would_ like those things. But he knew he had to think of his sister, put her first. So when he looked back up at Ms. Lambie, his gaze was clear again and he just said, “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I don’t want any friends.”  
  
His teacher sighed and headed for the exit, shaking her head once as she looked back at him before closing the door behind her.  
  
Only when she had been gone for quite some time did he venture after her, checking the corridor to make sure that she wasn’t hanging around, trying to trick him. Satisfied, he went into the bathroom and pulled out the dirty clothes again, lifting his sister- who had fallen asleep- into his arms. He carried her to the bottom bunk and laid her on it, covering her up. Then he went into the bathroom, sagged down onto the floor, and wept.  
  
Bellamy was never very good at crying quietly- unlike his sister, who’d developed that skill before she could talk. His cries had obviously woken her up, because suddenly she was toddling over to him and putting out her chubby baby hands.  
  
“Okay, Bell,” she whispered, patting his hair. “Shshsh.”  
  
He drew in a breath and opened his arms to her, let her climb up on his lap and curl into his chest. Her presence, her warm body cuddled close to him, calmed him immensely and soon his tears had stopped. He stroked her soft hair, and slowly his features smoothed out and a smile came onto his lips.  
  
Octavia looked up with her big blue eyes and smiled back, impish and cute. “All better?”  
  
“All better,” Bellamy said, hugging her close again. “Are you hungry? I brought you something.” He picked her up and set her on her feet, then pulled a bright red apple from his pocket, proudly holding it out to her. “I stole it just for you,” he said lovingly. He’d taken it from the desk of one of his classmates when she wasn’t looking, knowing that Octavia had never seen an apple before.  
  
Her face lit up and she reached for the fruit, wrapping her lips around it and biting down. Then she frowned, pulling away from him and making a face. He knew what the problem was- too hard.  
  
He smiled warmly at her and took the apple back, biting into it to loosen a chunk, but not taking it into his mouth. He popped it into hers instead and watched as her eyes lit up. Her obvious joy at the sweet taste made his heart flutter.  
  
After Octavia finished her apple, with Bellamy’s help, he got up from the floor and took her hand, leading her to the bunks. “I’m so tired,” he told her. “Let’s have a nap.” Now that the crisis had passed, he was exhausted from all the stress, and he just needed to rest. His sister was always happy for a nap, so they climbed into the bottom bunk together and she cuddled into his arms. They soon drifted off, her head tucked against his heartbeat- her favourite place to sleep.  
  
They slept peacefully for a couple of hours, until Aurora came home, and then Bellamy woke with a start to her nails digging into his shoulder.  
  
“I ran into your teacher on the way home,” she snapped. _“Fighting,_ Bellamy? How could you _do_ that again? She told me she _came_ here. Do you know how _scared_ I was?” She pulled him out of the bed by his arm, waking Octavia in the process, who just sat up and curled around herself, watching the two of them with her big eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”  
  
Aurora seized Bellamy’s shoulders in her hands and gave him a firm shake. “That’s your sister,” she told him angrily. “She’s your responsibility!”  
  
“I know, Mom, I know!” he exclaimed desperately. “I’m sorry!”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister clap her hands over her ears as she started crying, silently.  
  
“Octavia, you’re fine,” Aurora said to her, before finally letting Bellamy go. She went to her sewing bag and pulled out a plasma torch, something that was definitely not standard issue for a seamstress.  
  
“What is that?” Bellamy asked- afraid, irrationally, that it was something she was going to hurt him with. Aurora had never harmed him a day in her life, but her temper was fierce, and her disappointment often felt worse than any slap.  
  
“I had to do a favour for one of the engineers to get this,” she told him accusingly, making his heart sink. He watched with dismay as she went to their table and shoved it against the wall, making Octavia jump. Bellamy hurried to his sister and ran a hand over her hair to comfort her, feeling her relax instantly.  
  
Aurora was down on her knees, cutting through the floor with the plasma torch.  
  
“Mom, what are you doing?” Bellamy asked urgently. “Are you _crazy?”_  
  
_“No,”_ she growled, lifting her head and glaring over at him for a long moment, before going back to her work. “I’m doing what I have to do.”  
  
The two children watched as she cut a neat square, following the edges of the panel, and then let it cool before lifting it up by using the small gap in the metal. She set the panel aside, stood up, stalked over to the bed, and picked Octavia up in her arms, setting her down on her feet next to the newly created hole. She knelt down so she could be at her daughter’s level, so there would be no mistaking her words. “From now on,” she told the toddler, “when I’m at work and your brother is at school, you’ll be under the floor. That way if anyone comes in before one of us, no one will see you. Now get in so you can see it’s not scary.”  
  
But Bellamy knew it had to be terrifying for her. Sure enough, Octavia’s eyes filled with tears that spilled over and she cast a desperate look at her brother. “No, Mama,” she pleaded, trying to twist away from Aurora’s grip. “Mama, no, no, I'm sorry!”  
  
“Octavia, get in,” Aurora said insistently, and then she lifted her daughter- kicking legs and stiff torso- into the hole. She grabbed the panel to replace it and ordered, “Lay down.”  
  
It broke Bellamy’s heart to see her standing there, barely visible above the top lip of the panel, her blue eyes huge, her whole body trembling in terror. Octavia just stared at her mother, not moving, not obeying, and then she did something that she’d never done before- she threw her head back and wailed.  
  
Aurora’s eyes went wide and she dropped the panel with a clatter, immediately grabbing her daughter’s face and clapping a hand over her mouth. This only made Octavia scream louder, and Bellamy could see the terror taking over her. He was amazed as much as he was horrified- such a little thing, yet there was so much fight in her.  
  
Hastily Aurora pulled Octavia out of the hole and set her back on the floor, releasing her, and then she watched as the baby ran to Bellamy, throwing herself into his arms so hard he almost fell over.  
  
“It’s okay,” he soothed her, hugging her just as tightly back, because he was just as scared, even if he was trying to be brave.  
  
Aurora watched the two of them together for a long moment.  
  
“Bellamy,” she said finally, her voice still determined, but gentler now. “Get in with her.”  
  
He stared at her, his eyes flickering to the hole- he was trying to be brave, but he was seven years old. It was dark in there, and scary. Probably cold. Did the cavity under the floor go on forever? Were there monsters there? What if his mother put the panel back and couldn’t open it again? What if she forgot them?  
  
“She won’t be scared if you’re with her, and then she’ll learn it’s okay,” Aurora insisted. “Go on- get in while I make dinner.”  
  
He wasn’t going to admit that he was scared, especially not in front of Octavia. He forced his face to rearrange its features into something that resembled courage as he peeled his sister away from his chest, stroking his palm over her hair. He took her hand and held it tightly. “It’s okay, O,” he told her, his voice much more eager than he actually felt. “We’ll be like the Trojans, waiting to make their move on the Greeks.” He was forcing himself to sound excited, and Octavia watched him with a skeptical expression, clearly not trusting that he was serious. But with his mother’s eyes on him, he couldn’t help the forced enthusiasm as he went on, “Come on, it’ll be fun- we’ll play ‘who can stay quiet longest.’”  
  
It was her absolute trust in him that coaxed her to the edge of the hole, and then into it, and he lay down there with her, curling his body around her. It _was_ scary and cold, and so he was glad she wasn’t alone. Their mother placed the panel overtop, and Bellamy forced himself to accept the darkness, that only a little light could filter in through the handle.  
  
Octavia let out a small whimper and then fell silent. The sounds of their mother preparing dinner could be heard above them, as though this was just a normal evening- with her two children, cocooned and contained in the floor.  
  
“Mom loves you,” he whispered into Octavia’s seashell ears. “She loves you so much that she sometimes gets too scared, and then she gets angry.” He squeezed her close, tucked her cheek into his heartbeat and held her tight. “But you know I won’t let anything happen to you… right?”  
  
“Yes,” she whispered, snuggling into him more, her little body pressing against his, like a baby in a womb. “I love Bell.”  
  
He drew in a shaky breath and curled his chin over her head, inhaled the scent of her soft downy hair, whispered his purest truth, “I love you too, O.”


	6. 6- Octavia

At age two, Octavia had become an expert at playing soundlessly, being quiet, hiding when needed, and spending much of her time alone. She was a cautious child, big-eyed and silent, little and skinny. Aurora and Bellamy gave up a quarter of their own rations to make a half ration to feed the little girl, but when both she and Bellamy got bigger they both knew it would become harder to feed the whole family. Octavia was blissfully unaware of this, wrapped in her cocoon of love. Despite her isolation, at that age Octavia didn’t need anything more than a loving family.  
  
Aurora provided for Octavia’s physical needs, but Bellamy was her playmate, her friend, her confidant, and the centre of her world. He played with her, taught her things, made her feel like she mattered- like she wasn’t invisible, despite being undocumented and unknown to everyone else on the station.  
  
Since Bellamy and their mother used the code word of ‘monster’ for the only other people she knew of from the outside world- guards doing their inspections- she was terrified of the idea of the rest of the Ark. When they came and she was under the floor, she’d curl into herself and squeeze her eyes shut, not wanting to see them in case they were as horrible as she imagined.  
  
She had no concept of time, and so when Bellamy and Aurora were gone for work or school, sometimes the day dragged and dragged. Often she became scared, worried that today they wouldn't come home- today, the monsters would get them and she’d never see them again. Sometimes when this feeling of despair overwhelmed her, she would sit on the floor and cry- thick, silent tears would roll down her cheeks and splash onto the metal floor as she lay there, cold and tiny and forlorn, sure she was going to be alone for the rest of her life.  
  
They had a clock in their room, a little one set high in the wall with red numbers that glowed at night. Octavia could not decipher their strange meaning, and had no concept of how to tell time. So for her second birthday Bellamy got his hands on a tiny analog clock- still meaningless to her- and took it apart. He got rid of the second and minute hands, and then he coloured in neat segments before putting the whole thing together again.  
  
Now when the hour hand swept through the red zones, she knew she would have to endure being alone a bit longer. When it reached green, she knew it wouldn’t be long before her brother would come home, and she made a game of how much she could do between when it was in the green zone and when it finally clicked over to blue- their reunion colour. Sure enough, when it reached blue Bellamy would come through the door from school and she would run to him, laughing with her breath more than her voice, hugging him, loving him. He would tell her how much he missed her, and she would forget all about her long, lonely day.  
  
Between her official job as a seamstress and the male clients she took on the side, Aurora's schedule was less predictable, so no clock could track her movements.  
  
Octavia loved all their games, but what she liked most of all was when he tucked her into bed with him, cuddled close, and told her stories. Sometimes he would repeat the mythology that their mother read to them, putting his own twist on an ending or changing around the events. Rather than be shocked by the blasphemy of him altering these tales, Octavia always preferred his versions. The heroes were always more heroic, the bad things always downplayed, the good things brought to life in vivid colour. He did all the voices, and described every scene with great detail. Often he made up his own stories, completely from scratch, but Octavia couldn’t tell the two apart. He was so good at it that, even when she was totally exhausted, she refused to fall asleep until the story was over.  
  
Today, after they ate together, they played with some of her toys- and then carefully put them away, in the hole, out of sight like all evidence of her existence. Then Bellamy tucked Octavia into their mother’s bunk and climbed under the blanket with her, curling himself around her and stroking her head gently. Octavia watched him closely as he picked up a tendril of her hair and tucked it over her ear, and then he started speaking softly, in a special voice that was just for her, just for storytime. The anticipation was so great that she trembled just a little, wanting to squeal but knowing she couldn’t.  
  
"Once upon a time,” Bellamy said softly, his lips close to her ear, “there was a powerful, brave, and beautiful princess." He tucked her into his chest and held her close. "She had long brown hair, and big blue eyes.” Octavia grinned, recognising herself- she was often the star of his stories.  
  
“She was so special that she had to be hidden away like a treasure,” Bellamy continued, and Octavia pressed her hands over her mouth, wiggled her toes in excitement. Bellamy laughed softly at her, lovingly, as he went on, “As the princess got older, she started to wonder what was outside the cave. Her family came and went, always bringing her back what she needed, but she wanted to go outside and see the world for herself.”  
  
Octavia held her breath, listening intently, watching his lips as he spoke. The concept of the Ark, what that might look like, was still abstract to her at this age. She looked at pictures of the Earth, of moonrises and stars and the blackness of space, but without any windows of their own it all seemed like fantasy- no more real than pictures of animals and trees.  
  
“One day, the princess went outside,” Bellamy said, riveting her attention back to his face. “She was scared, but she was also brave. The cave was cold and dark, but as she got closer to the surface, she started to feel warmth coming from up above.” He let that hang there- the image of the brave princess, scared but going forward anyway, moving up towards the sky.  
  
_“Then_ what, Bell?” she demanded, when she couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
Her brother flashed her a grin and continued, “When she got to the mouth of the cave, she saw the most beautiful sight, O- all around her she saw grass, trees, flowers, and a huge blue sky. Birds were flying around, and bees were buzzing on the flowers, and the air smelled clear. Not like our air at all- it was fresh and light and full of yummy smells. It was a whole big, bright world, and it was all hers.”  
  
“What about monsters?” Octavia demanded, her little brow furrowing, concerned for this girl in the story and what might happen to her once she was outside.  
  
“No monsters,” Bellamy said. “Don’t worry, O, she’s safe out there.”  
  
Her eyes trailed to the door of their quarters, the door that opened and shut to admit her mother and brother every day. She raised a little hand and pointed at it. “What’s outside?”  
  
Bellamy looked at her in surprise, as though he was shocked that she’d asked that question, and then embarrassed for being shocked. He hesitated, as if trying to choose his words carefully. Then finally he said, “One day you’re going to go outside too, O. One day you’re going to walk out that door and be able to see anything you want to see. I'm going to take you.”  
  
She let out a long breath, her lower lip trembling for just a moment. “When?”  
  
Before he could answer, the door suddenly swung open and both children froze, relaxing again only when they saw it was their mother. But then they tensed again, as Aurora’s eyes lighted on them with obvious worry and stress.  
  
“Quick!” she urged, running over and grabbing the blanket, ripping it off the two of them and throwing it to the floor. She grabbed Bellamy and hauled him off the bed, then grabbed Octavia and put her into his arms. “Hide!”  
  
Octavia could feel her brother’s heart pounding in his chest as he held her close, running for the table to pull it back and expose the hole.  
  
“No time,” Aurora urged. “Get in the shower- _now,_ Bellamy!”  
  
He clutched Octavia to him and she was so scared that she just hid her face in his chest, clinging to him like a little monkey, her body trembling as Bellamy ran for the bathroom. But before he'd made it anywhere near the door there was another crash, and again the door was open. Octavia let out a single wail, a cry she couldn’t control because she was that scared, as her eyes landed on something absolutely terrifying.  
  
A big man stood in the doorway, his blue eyes flashing with absolute rage, his chest heaving, and his angular face red with fury as he stared at them. He was huge, toweringly tall and muscular, his fists clenched, short hairs poking out of his face, a frightening picture nothing like anything she’d ever seen before.  
  
A monster, right here in their quarters. Knowing just how important it was for her to never be seen by one of the monsters, Octavia believed her life was over. She was too terrified even to vomit or cry, though she badly wanted to do both.  
  
Bellamy had frozen too, but he was staring at the man not just with fear but also with something that looked like recognition.  
  
When the monster reached out toward her with his big hands, Octavia’s body went stiff, her eyes widening as she felt her heart stop, her little body shaking in terror.  
  
Aurora moved, grabbing Bellamy by the arm and shoving him into the little bathroom, Octavia still clutched in his arms. “Stay in there!” she snapped. Bellamy slammed the bathroom door, and then collapsed with his sister into the shower, slamming that door too. Both loud bangs made Octavia jump, her whole body a bundle of nerves. Bellamy’s chest was heaving in panic, his heart pounding so hard that it made her cheek vibrate.  
  
“Monster,” she whispered, needing to say the word, needing to expel some of that absolute terror in the pit of her stomach, trying to process what she’d just seen.  
  
“It’s okay, O, I’ve got you,” he said urgently, hugging her tightly.  
  
Outside, the voices were muffled but not enough as the monster raged at Aurora, “That’s my _daughter!_ I can see plain as day she is- she’s got my damn _eyes,_ Aurora! How could you keep this from me?!” He was angry, but his voice was a loud hiss rather than a yell. Octavia didn’t really understand what the words meant, what was being said, just that it was loud and terrifying.  
  
“Bell,” Octavia whispered. “Scary monster.” She buried her face in his chest and slowly shook her head side to side, her little fists tightening into his clothes as she tried to keep breathing, tried not to scream, tried to make herself feel safe. “No,” she told him, her voice shaking, as though he could fix this. “Go away.”  
  
In the main room, her mother and the monster sounded like they were playing tag- lots of chasing, moving, throwing, banging.  
  
Octavia felt Bellamy slide his hand over her ear, felt him press her other ear to his chest as he kept his lips close to her and whispered, “Shshsh. You’re having a bad dream. It’s okay- I’m here.”  
  
She relaxed just a little. Was that true? Was she dreaming? If she was, then she knew it wasn’t real. She was safe, and Bellamy was here to protect her. She just had to wait until she woke up.  
  
Bellamy started singing, his voice soft but clear, not a particular song but just a tune. She listened carefully, letting her ears focus on the sound of his voice instead of on the commotion outside. She could hear her mother’s voice once in a while, sounds like skin being hit, sounds like things falling.  
  
Eventually, curled into her brother, finally overwhelmed by the stress of it all, Octavia fell asleep. When she woke up, she was tucked into her mother’s bunk, the blanket tight around her, her family eating a quiet meal at the table. The relief was instantaneous, and she slid off the bunk and ran to her brother happily, hugging him tight. “Bad dream,” she told him.  
  
Bellamy pulled her up onto his lap and let her lean back into his chest. He stopped eating so she could finish his dinner as he said softly to her, “It’s okay. You’re awake now, and you’re safe. Bad dreams aren’t real.”  
  
“Mommy?” Octavia asked, seeing the blank expression on her mother’s face as she stared at her own plate of food.  
  
When Aurora didn’t answer or even acknowledge her daughter’s presence, Bellamy stroked a hand softly over his sister’s hair and said, “Mom’s tired, O. After dinner I’ll tell you another story, and then you can sleep with me tonight. Okay?” Happily, Octavia nodded, going back to her food, taking comfort in Bellamy’s warm arms around her.  
  
And with that, the nightmare man with the red face was forgotten.


	7. 7- Bellamy

Octavia’s father waited nearly two weeks before he decided to come stand outside the schoolroom at the end of the day. Bellamy didn’t know what had gone on in those two weeks, whether he’d continued to harass Aurora, but nothing like that explosive night when he’d seen Octavia had happened again- at least, not to Bellamy’s knowledge.  
  
After school that day, he was totally unprepared to see the big man standing just outside the exit, obviously waiting for him. A dozen things ran through Bellamy’s head- should he tell the teacher that this man was dangerous? What if he did and the conversation led to Octavia? What if his sister got exposed here and now?  
  
Pulling in a huge breath, for once Bellamy wasn’t the first one out the schoolroom door as he waited for the other kids to leave, before finally creeping over to him, dragging his feet.  
  
The man’s name was Roman, and at one time, a few years ago, Bellamy had thought he would become his stepfather. That was when he’d been about four years old- before Roman had become violent, before she’d gotten pregnant, and before all this had happened. He’d disappeared from their lives shortly before Aurora had started preparing her son for Octavia’s arrival. Secretly, Bellamy had been glad- by then he’d known enough that he’d long since stopped hoping Roman would become part of the family.  
  
“What do you want?” Bellamy demanded as he reached him, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to look braver than he felt.  
  
“Come on, kid, let me walk you home,” Roman answered, smirking a little.  
  
Bellamy immediately shook his head. “No way. I’m not taking you anywhere near my quarters.”  
  
The big man kept smiling at him, but now it was more like a grimace. Then he nodded. “Fine. Then let’s just walk- pick a direction, because we need to talk.”  
  
Again Bellamy thought about calling out to his teacher, thought about running away, but Roman knew exactly where they lived and there was nothing he could do to stop him coming to their quarters after all. At least this way, Bellamy could control him better.  
  
They started walking in the complete opposite direction to home, and for a long time there was silence, until the school crowds had thinned and they could talk freely.  
  
“Bellamy, I don’t know what your mother’s been telling you, but I’ve been trying to see my daughter since that night I came to your quarters.”  
  
“You mean since you _hit_ Mom?” Bellamy countered defensively, not wanting to let on that his mother hadn’t told him anything at all. It was like that day had never happened, like Roman had never stood inside their quarters and laid his eyes on Octavia’s face. And he hated when he called her ‘my daughter.’  
  
Roman pulled in a big breath. “Aurora and I have some problems. But it’s still not right what she did- she pushed me away and pushed me away, and I couldn’t figure out why. But I saw her near the end of her pregnancy… even under all those big clothes- I knew your mom’s body. I suspected what was happening.”  
  
Bellamy shifted with discomfort and glanced at him. “So you didn’t do anything for two years?”  
  
Another big breath. “I _did_ do something. I talked to your mom. As soon as I could catch her alone- once she came back to work- I tried to figure this out. I tried to get her to let me see my kid.” He shook his head slowly. “She wouldn’t even tell me if it was a boy or a girl. Hell, she wouldn’t even tell me there _was_ a kid. She swore there wasn’t, swore I was crazy, but dammit- you won’t know this yet, but when you’re a man and you’ve been with a woman, you’ll be able to tell when her goddamn stomach swells up and her tits get huge.”  
  
Again, Bellamy felt massively uncomfortable, his face flaming as he looked at the floor. But the overwhelming feelings were twofold- anger, and disbelief. Why hadn’t his mother told him any of this? Why hadn’t she prepared him?  
  
Next to him Roman continued, “I guess I accepted the fact that I was crazy, imagining it, and your mother avoided me like the plague when we were at work- which is pretty impressive, considering I’m her boss. She even switched to nights to get away from me.”  
  
Bellamy knew that wasn’t the case, that his mother had changed her shift so she could be with Octavia during the day while Bellamy tended her at night. But he wasn’t going to give Roman a shred of information about anything, so he stayed silent.  
  
“Hey,” Roman said, putting his hands on Bellamy’s shoulders, stopping him from walking. He glanced around to make sure no one would overhear. “You know I don’t have a kid. You’ve been hiding her in your quarters all this time, but what’s going to happen when she’s older? Huh? She’s going to waste away in there. Your mother won’t listen to this, but maybe _you_ will- give her to me. I’ll take her and I’ll raise her. Make up a story about who her mother is, where she came from… might get a slap on the wrist for concealing the pregnancy, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and it’s a hell of a lot less dangerous than hiding a whole goddamn person. I could give her a life, Bellamy- a _real_ life.”  
  
Bellamy’s eyes had filled with tears that he was desperately fighting. He felt like Roman was poking directly at a bruise on his heart, hurting him, attacking his family, speaking aloud all his deepest fears. “She does have a real life,” he said through gritted teeth, twisting his shoulders away. “She _does.”_  
  
Roman shook his head slowly. “She’s a baby, Bellamy. She’s probably perfectly happy right now with just that room and you two, but when she gets bigger she’s going to feel trapped… what happens when she gets school-aged? She’ll never learn anything. She’ll never _know_ anything.”  
  
Bellamy’s breaths were deep and slow, and what he hated most of all was that Roman was _right-_ he was voicing all the worries that he’d had himself, all the things his mother didn’t let him talk about, all the things she pretended didn’t matter. As though Octavia could just stay in that little room, those four walls around her, and not be stifled by it.  
  
But Bellamy knew she was already stifled. He imagined himself never leaving that room, what that would be like, and it felt like cruelty. He loved Octavia more than anything, and he wanted her to have _everything._  
  
Roman was waiting for a reply, but Bellamy’s body was tight with anger, grief, distrust, and fear. Despite knowing that what Roman was saying was true, despite the fact that he was echoing Bellamy’s own worries about how Octavia would stay happy growing up, he also knew why his mother was keeping Roman away, and he _knew_ that Octavia could not go to him.  
  
“We’re not giving her to you,” he said firmly. “She’s staying with us.”  
  
“Bellamy-”  
  
“No,” he snapped, cutting him off. “No, you say you’re going to give her such a great life, but you don’t even know how to love anybody!”  
  
Roman seemed shocked at those words- maybe shocked that Bellamy was perceptive enough to call him on his bad behaviour, or articulate enough to express it in the way he had. It was true that the last time they’d had a meaningful conversation, Bellamy had been five years old. And after Octavia’s birth, he’d matured ten years in a single moment.  
  
“Bellamy-”  
  
“No!” he snapped again, shaking his head. “She’s not yours. She’s _ours.”_  
  
“She _is_ mine- just look at her! Look at _me.”_  
  
Bellamy glared at him, glared at the blue eyes that were Octavia’s, the angular jaw that was Octavia’s, how even the way he held himself hinted at her. But he shook his head. “I don’t mean that,” he insisted. “I mean she’s not _yours._ She’s _ours,_ and she’s staying with us.”  
  
“I’m not letting this go,” Roman said.  
  
Bellamy felt desperation rise in his chest. “What are you going to do?” he whispered, his voice full of grief. “Tell on us?”  
  
Roman squeezed his eyes shut, pulling in a deep breath. “No, I’m not going to tell on you. Why would I do that? I don’t want your mother floated.”  
  
The relief almost knocked Bellamy over, but he was still wary. “Then what? You’ll go away?”  
  
“I’m not going away. That’s my daughter- she _belongs_ to me.”  
  
Drawing a deep breath of his own, Bellamy’s eyes darkened with intense anger as he whispered, “You’ll just hit her. You’ll drink and you’ll hit her like you hit Mom and me. That’s all you ever do.”  
  
Roman’s face reddened and for just a moment he raised a hand, as though he was actually going to hit Bellamy right here in this corridor. It had been a couple of years since Bellamy had felt the sting of that hand on his cheek, but still he felt his body remember, felt it stiffen up in anticipation.  
  
But because they were in public, the blow never came. Instead, Roman clenched his fist tightly and laid it back down by his side before he said, very quietly, “I know you love your mother, Bellamy. But she’s a selfish person. She’s keeping my daughter away from me to spite me, because she wants to do this on her own- like she does _everything_ on her own- but what she’s doing to her is wrong. What she’s doing to _you_ is wrong, making you a father before you’ve even hit puberty.” He shook his head, his face twisted in disgust.  
  
Bellamy gritted his teeth and said, “We’re _fine.”_  
  
“Just think about what I said,” Roman told him. “Just think about what’s best for _her-_ not your mother, but your _sister.”_ He let out a breath and then he looked vulnerable for the first time during this whole conversation. “What’s her name? Aurora wouldn’t even tell me that.”  
  
“Then I won’t either,” Bellamy said stubbornly, loyally.  
  
“Come on,” Roman said gently. “Please- she _is_ my daughter. Tell me her name.”  
  
But there was no way Bellamy was going to give that away, betray his mother, give Roman a single piece of information. He just crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I have to go home now.”  
  
Again, Roman looked like he would very much like to hit him. His jaw tightened but his fists stayed at his side as he shook his head. “You’re as bad as your mother,” he snapped. But it was obvious that the question was eating him up inside. “Dammit, Bellamy, will you just _tell_ me what she named her?”  
  
Bellamy glared at him and said, _“I_ named her. And I’m not telling you what it is no matter how many times you ask.”  
  
Roman was clearly surprised. _“You_ named her?” He let out a laugh, but there was no humour in it. “She’s worse than I thought. Having a second baby is one thing, but she’s robbing you of a childhood and you don’t even know it.”  
  
Bellamy swallowed, feeling those tears stinging his eyes again. “I have to go home. Stay away from me. Stay away from all of us.” He started to walk away, but Roman grabbed his arm.  
  
“You think about what I said,” the big man said, his finger in Bellamy’s face. “You think about what’s best for that little girl.”  
  
Bellamy tried to jerk his arm away, but Roman’s grip was like a vice. Bellamy bit out, “I have. And it’s _not_ you.”  
  
Roman’s voice was an angry hiss, quiet so no one would overhear, but boiling with rage. “What about when she starts wanting to go outside? What about when she gets sick? What about when she wants to have friends, or date? What about when she _hates_ both of you for locking her up? What about when she finds out that _I_ could have given her a _normal_ life?”  
  
This time when he tried to lurch his arm away, Roman let go and Bellamy stumbled, almost falling over. He swallowed, staring at the big man for a long moment, and then he turned and ran as though Roman would chase him, ran as though the whole Ark was after him.  
  
When he reached his quarters, he slammed through the door and heard tiny wretched gasps coming from under the floor. He ran to the table, crashing down on his knees and shoving it out of the way, pulling up the floor panel and tossing it aside.  
  
Octavia lay inside the hole, curled into herself in a fetal position, crying and crying. The blanket under her head was soaked, so it was obvious she’d been sobbing for a long time. The little clock he’d made her was clutched in her arms, and the hour hand had long since swept through the blue segment.  
  
Looking down at her, Bellamy felt the guilt slam into him so hard he felt sick.  
  
“Octavia, Octavia, I’m here, I’m so sorry!” he told her, leaning down to pull her out of the hole, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her.  
  
For the first time in her life she pulled away from him, tucking herself as far away as she could, curling against the wall. That felt worse than any slap.  
  
“Go away,” Octavia whispered, fresh tears falling.  
  
Bellamy sank down, resting his chin on the edge of the hole. “I’m sorry, O,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to. I got here as fast as I could, but a monster tried to get me and I had to make sure he didn’t follow me back.”  
  
There was a long pause where the only sound was Octavia’s tiny little muffled cries, echoing slightly in the hole. Then, finally, she rolled back over, and her red, puffy face broke his heart as she looked up at him. “Really?” she whispered.  
  
He nodded, reaching down to smooth the hair back from Octavia’s wet face. “Really. But I got away, and everything’s going to be fine now.” He wasn’t certain which one of them he was trying to reassure. His hands shook as he held them out to her, and he really didn’t know what he’d do if Octavia rejected him a second time.  
  
But her anger and hurt towards him didn't last- she loved and trusted him so much, and now she seemed to crave his arms just as much as he needed to hold her. She pushed herself to her feet and let him grab her under the armpits, where he pulled her out and swung her around, setting her down on the solid floor. Immediately Octavia fell forward into his arms, letting him catch the full weight of her- which wasn’t much. Bellamy wrapped her up tight, holding her close to his chest.  
  
“No more late,” Octavia whispered, her voice trembling, her body trembling.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing her tight. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want to be late, O, but I couldn’t help it.” If only he could explain it properly.  
  
She leaned back and looked at him, and only when she reached up and smoothed her hands over his cheeks did he realise he was crying. “Shshsh,” she whispered.  
  
Bellamy pulled her close to his chest again and cried into her soft baby hair that had never been cut, cried and cried folded against his sister as all of Roman’s words came crashing back to him. He cried with desperation and loneliness and all of the terrible weight falling down on his shoulders.  
  
Octavia tried her best to comfort him, smoothing the tears from his cheeks, patting his hair, covering him in a blanket, bringing him her favourite toys. When none of that worked to settle him, she just cuddled into him and stayed quiet, letting him drain all his sadness into her hair.  
  
Their mother found them like that, curled into one another, asleep on the floor from the sheer exhaustion of so much grief. Aurora leaned down and shook Bellamy gently awake, and the frown on her face was deep.  
  
“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered. “Why have you got your sister sleeping on on the floor? It’s cold.”  
  
He watched her closely for a moment, silent, thinking again about what Roman had said about her: that she was selfish, that this was wrong- cruelty. For the first time since he'd known Octavia was coming, he was realising that his mother had had a choice about this- all of it. That maybe she _had_ stolen his childhood and condemned Octavia to a life of heartache. But why?  
  
He knew it didn't matter- not really. Octavia was here now, and he loved her- with her birth, she had become the centre of his world. Not his mother... not anymore.  
  
“Bellamy!” Aurora hissed, clearly exasperated. “What’s _wrong?”_  
  
For the first time in his life, but certainly not the last, Bellamy lied to her. He stood up, holding his sister- his responsibility- in his arms, and he looked his mother right in the face as he said, “Nothing’s wrong, Mom. We just fell asleep.”


	8. 8- Octavia

At three years old, Octavia had a cherubic face, big blue eyes, and an impish charm about her that her mother and brother could rarely fight- whenever she turned the full radiance of her grin on them, no matter how dark their mood, they almost always smiled reflexively. Octavia was little, both in bone structure and in height, and she might have been bigger if she’d had access to enough food and vitamin supplements, but she lived off the scraps of her family like a baby bird, never quite satisfied, always happy for more.  
  
One thing she was never starved for was love, because her family gave it to her in spades. Even her mother, who could be standoffish and stressed at times, had a hard time not running a gentle had over her daughter’s dark hair at least once or twice a day. Her daughter was the centre of her world, and everything she ever did was for Octavia, so it would have been absurd if she hadn’t taken pride in her every accomplishment- and she did.  
  
While Aurora’s love was like a moon, soft and magical and delicate, Bellamy’s was like a blazing sun. He loved Octavia with force, and while he ventured out each day to school, he only shone when he was home. Since he wasn’t a particularly good student and was often preoccupied with worries about home, his day of lessons was often tiring, frustrating. When he got home he would be full of pent-up energy, fatigued but also ready for fun, and Octavia was more than happy to oblige. Without their mother there, they could do whatever they wanted, as long as it was quiet.  
  
Clutching her skinny arms and legs around his back like a monkey, she would pretend he was her pony, and let out muted squeals of glee as he galloped around their quarters. Bellamy would transport her to places far and wide, opening up her imagination and unlocking her wonder for a world that neither of them had ever seen.  
  
“Now we’re in the jungle, O!” he would say enthusiastically. “Look at the trees- they’re so tall! And the air is moist, like rain is just hanging around us.” Neither of them could quite grasp what that might be like, but they’d read enough together from Bellamy’s tablet that they could imagine all sorts of landscapes, and he loved bringing them to life for her.  
  
Often he set her down and crouched down low, so he was close to her height, keeping an arm around her as they crept around the room, imagining a lush jungle. He pulled her by the hand down the step near the front door and they lay on their bellies side by side, peeking their faces up just high enough to see the top level.  
  
At three years old, Octavia could see the foliage and sunlight and dirt as though it was really there, as though their quarters really were a jungle. It filled her eyes with a wonder that made Bellamy smile at her like she was the best thing he'd ever seen, and she knew that it would keep him going for hours. She felt like he lived to make her happy, and she was right.  
  
“We have to be careful,” he warned her in a conspiratorial whisper. “There are lots of animals that want to eat us. What’s the big black cat with the yellow eyes?”  
  
“Jaguar,” she said eaglerly, looking around for it. Octavia loved all cats.  
  
“What if it was spotted?”  
  
She considered for a moment and said, “Where?”  
  
“South America,” he answered right away. “Deep in the Amazon Jungle, which is a huge forest full of plants bigger than the Ark, and lots of animals. Even little frogs the size of your fingernail that are all kinds of colours. So what’s the spotted cat?”  
  
“Still a Jaguar,” she said eagerly. “They come spotted or black.”  
  
“That’s good, Octavia, that was a trick question,” he praised her, making her grin even bigger. “But what if it was in Africa?”  
  
“Leopard,” she said, and then frowned. “Or cheetah.”  
  
Bellamy laughed softly at her confusion. “You’re right, sorry, I forgot there were two spotted cats in Africa.”  
  
“Bell… where’s Africa?”  
  
“On Earth,” he answered quickly, then, “Look, O, a bird of paradise! Check it out, it’s such a pretty blue, it’s almost glittery, and it’s doing a dance!”  
  
Octavia looked into the barren room with no furniture other than their table and chairs, a soft ottoman for sitting, and a bench, but what she saw was a rich and mysterious jungle, teeming with life, and a beautiful bird strutting around in a clearing, its blue feathers catching the sun like diamonds.  
  
“Yay!” she said, clapping her hands, and the look Bellamy gave her made her heart warm and fluttery with joy.  
  
“Come on, O, hop on your pony and let’s keep going,” he said, turning his back toward her. She clambered onto his back and he held her legs tightly as he dashed around their quarters, dodging and weaving through their meager furniture and making her laugh softly, the volume no relation to her level of joy.  
  
“Now we’re passing by a beautiful waterfall,” he said, leaning back a little as though they were looking far up into the sky. “The top is so high you can’t even see it through the clouds.”  
  
Bellamy kept whirling them around the room and then suddenly exclaimed, “Uh-oh, watch out for those hanging vines!” Octavia ducked her head, giggling quietly, and Bellamy turned his head back to grin back at her.  
  
She kissed his forehead and wiggled on his back, squeezing his shoulders in sheer excitement. “More, more!” she demanded. “I want more!”  
  
“You want more?” he teased, acting as though it was such a strange request, but smiling to show her he was kidding.  
  
Boosting her up higher, he ran headlong toward the front door and then stopped abruptly, his toes just over the edge of their step, and he hushed his voice up as though they were witnessing something holy as he said, “Look, O, it’s like the edge of the world. All you can see is ocean now… see all the waves, how they sparkle in the sun? There are so many things underneath that we can never see.”  
  
Octavia’s eyes were huge as she looked out at the vast expanse of undulating water. She watched how the whitecaps caught the sunlight, how as a whole it looked still but when you focused on each section it was moving. She could feel the sea breeze on her face, the salt taste in her mouth, brackish but sweet. Octavia imagined all the huge whales and fish and underwater caves beneath those waves.  
  
“Bell?” she asked softly.  
  
“Yeah?” he whispered back, enjoying the view with her, drawing in a deep breath to taste the same salt air that she was.  
  
“The underwater things...” She was frowning, thinking hard. “How come they’re there, even when we can’t see them?”  
  
Bellamy took a step back from the edge and leaned down, easing her gently back onto her feet. He stayed crouched, keeping his face at her level as he said, “What we can see is only a tiny piece of the world, O.” His voice was so gentle, almost sad, and it made her feel suddenly melancholy, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “That’s true no matter what- on the Ark, on the ground, and anywhere in between. It’s true for everyone, Octavia- not just you.”  
  
She drew her bottom lip in and sucked on it for a moment, a nervous habit she’d developed in recent months. Her eyes flickered to their front door, then back to her brother’s face. “Everyone?”  
  
Bellamy sat down and drew her down into his lap. She curled up, facing him, her knees tucked into the side of him while she laid her head into the crook of his arm, looking up at him as he said softly, “Remember how we learned about the universe? How it’s so big, that even if you lived forever you might never get across the whole thing?”  
  
Octavia nodded, spellbound, watching his lips, his eyes, as he spoke to her. He always made her feel like the only person alive, the only person that mattered, like this was the real world and anything outside was insignificant.  
  
“Okay then,” Bellamy went on, his eyes soft. “So even though everybody knows that there’s this big huge universe out there, they don’t sit around wishing they could see it all, right?”  
  
Again, her eyes flickered to the door, and she knew what he was _really_ saying, but the universe and the Ark seemed so different. The people who didn’t long for universe had a world, or at least a space station. She had a room.  
  
“Is it bad?” she asked him softly.  
  
Bellamy’s frown was half concern, half confusion. “Is what bad?”  
  
Octavia chewed on her lip again and watched him for a moment before she whispered, “Wishing for bigger.”  
  
His face crumpled just a little, and she felt a stab of guilt, but then he was holding her close and she felt the love in his embrace and she relaxed as she pressed her cheek into his chest, listening to his heart. Finally Bellamy said, very soft, “You’re going to be able to leave here one day, O. You won’t have to be in this room forever.”  
  
“But Mommy says-”  
  
“It doesn’t matter what she says,” he interrupted, and there was a hard edge to his voice that she didn’t quite understand. “It’s not up to her, it’s up to me.” He eased her back a little so he could look her in the eyes as he said again, “You _will_ get out of here. I _promise.”_  
  
Octavia swallowed, nodded, trusting him. “Okay. But only if you come too.”  
  
She was rewarded with a big smile, and she felt herself relax. So much of her time was spent watching the moods of her mother and brother, and wanting them to be happy, that when she caused any upset- even unintentionally- she felt a rush of intense anxiety, an urgent need to fix it. Only then could she relax again.  
  
“Bell?” she asked tentatively, watching his face.  
  
His expression was still soft as he asked, “Yeah?”  
  
“Tell a story?”  
  
He smiled and nodded, pulling to his feet with her in his arms and carrying her to their mother’s bunk. He laid her down and she automatically rolled towards the wall, making room for him in the narrow little bed. He got in next to her, pulling the blanket up to cover them both before letting her settle into his side, her head on his chest again, his heartbeat a steady, comforting sound in her ear.  
  
Their mother often read them stories- mythology, folklore, legends- and she was good at it, doing the voices of the characters, her tone something akin to sacred as she drew from many different cultures and traditions. But as good as Aurora was, her son was even better.  
  
Bellamy had a knack for making up his own unique tales, and they never ceased to enthrall Octavia’s young mind. Sometimes they were stories she’d heard before with new embellishments or changed endings, but often they were completely original, invented from scratch. She was frequently the hero, but Bellamy rarely made an appearance unless she begged.  
  
Today he decided to put a new twist on an old tale as he said, “Persephone and her mother Demeter were very close. They lived together in a beautiful little hut in the middle of a field of wildflowers. And-”  
  
“Did she have a brother too?” Octavia interrupted.  
  
He gave her a smile and said, “Sure she did. His name was Jason.”  
  
“Like Jason and the Argonauts?” she asked eagerly.  
  
Bellamy rolled his eyes playfully and said, “I don’t know. Jason was a common name. But this isn’t about him, O, it’s about Persephone.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” she relented, hardly able to contain her excitement as she wriggled into him just a little bit more.  
  
“So Persephone and Demeter-” he paused, then relented, _“-and_ Jason lived in their great little hut in that big field,” he continued, used to her interruptions. “Demeter was a goddess, and she was in charge of the seasons. It was really important for the world to have seasons because otherwise they couldn’t grow any food to live- kind of like how we have to control the algae blooms and nitrate cycles or else _we_ won’t have food. So Demeter had a pretty important job.”  
  
Octavia closed her eyes so she could listen to his voice, which often took on a rhythmic, soothing tone when he told her stories.  
  
“Demeter did everything she could to keep Persephone safe, so she rarely left the hut without her mother. Many people wanted to marry Persephone because she was brave, strong, kind, and beautiful. So Demeter got pretty used to turning people away at the door who wanted to take her daughter from her.”  
  
“One day,” Bellamy continued, “Hades, who was the god of the underworld, came to ask Persephone’s mother if he could marry her. This wasn’t the same as any of the other people who’d come to the door, because Hades was a god just like Demeter. But Demeter wasn’t sure about him, O… he might have been a god, but he lived in a dark, sad place. Demeter thought that Hades was a bad man, and that Persephone would become sad and dark too, so she said no.”  
  
“Was Hades mad?” Octavia whispered, now fully wrapped up in this tale.  
  
“He sure was,” Bellamy agreed. “But not as mad as Persephone.”  
  
“Why?” Octavia asked, hiding a grin behind her palm. “Did Persephone _love_ Hades?”  
  
Bellamy made a face and said, “Of course not, she’d never met him. She was mad because her mother was making all these decisions about her life without even asking her.”  
  
“What did Jason think?” Octavia asked.  
  
“What?” For a moment Bellamy looked confused, then he seemed to remember what she was talking about and he said, “Oh, Jason was away somewhere. Anyway, Persephone was really mad at her mother for being so bossy, so that night she decided to sneak out and see for herself what Hades was all about.”  
  
Octavia held her breath, waiting to see what might happen next. Bellamy smiled at her, and she could see that he knew just how enthralled she was now.  
  
“So Persephone went down to the underworld, where she found Hades moping around about the fact that he couldn’t marry her. He was really happy to see her too, and he immediately started planning for their marriage. But then Persephone told him,” and here Bellamy’s voice went high and indignant, “‘How dare you! I haven’t agreed to any wedding! I only came down here to see if you’re as bad as my mother believes! If you want me to marry you, you’d better make me _feel_ like marrying you.’”  
  
“Well, after that, Hades knew he had to do everything he could to win her over. So he asked her all about herself, and learned all her favourite things, and gave her all sorts of gifts, and slowly the two of them started to become friends.”  
  
“But what about her mother and brother?” Octavia asked.  
  
“They missed her a lot,” he told her with a sad nod of his head. “And they didn’t know where she went. So Demeter got really sad, and forgot all about doing her job anymore. The seasons disappeared, and the whole world was plunged into chaos- nothing would grow properly, there were no pretty flowers to look at, and everybody was starving and sad. But Demeter was saddest of all.”  
  
“And _Jason,”_ Octavia insisted.  
  
“Yes,” Bellamy answered with a small shake of his head. “And Jason.”  
  
“So _then_ what?” she demanded.  
  
“So then, Persephone found out that her family was so sad, and she wanted to go back to them, but she had also grown to really care about Hades. She decided that she did want to marry him after all.”  
  
“So they all lived happily ever after?” Octavia asked eagerly.  
  
But Bellamy shook his head and said, “No. Persephone knew that her mother would never go for Hades being her son-in-law, because she thought Hades was bad.”  
  
“But he’s not bad, right?”  
  
“Right,” Bellamy answered. “Everyone just thought he was, because he was from a place they didn’t like. It’s like being from Factory Station instead of Alpha station- we’re not _bad,_ we just aren’t as lucky as them.”  
  
She didn’t quite understand the analogy, but she nodded her head enthusiastically and said, “What happened?”  
  
“Well, the rules of the underworld are, if you eat some of the magic fruit they had there, the underworld sucks you down and you have to stay below- forever. Persephone didn’t want that, because she missed her family and was worried about how sad her mother was, but she also didn’t want to leave Hades behind. So what she did was, she found a pomegranate-”  
  
“What’s that?” Octavia interrupted.  
  
Bellamy paused, and then shook his head. “I don’t know. Some kind of fruit with seeds in it… we’ll look it up later. But anyway, Persephone found a pomegranate and she ate six seeds- no more, no less. That way, six months out of the year, she’d _have_ to stay in the underworld, and six months of the year she could be with her mother.”  
  
“That worked?”  
  
“It did,” he agreed. “Demeter was even so happy to see her daughter again that the world exploded into spring, then summer, and everyone had full bellies again and were happy. That’s how seasons work: when Persephone is with her mother, it’s hot and happy and fun- that’s summer- and then it starts getting darker and colder, and the plants start to hibernate- that’s autumn, when Demeter gets sad because her daughter is gone. Winter is when that darkness seems to stretch on and on, while Persephone is still in the underworld with Hades, and Demeter is so sad. But then Persephone comes back and everything comes alive and it’s beautiful again- that’s spring.”  
  
“But what about _Jason?”_ Octavia insisted. “How come Demeter isn’t happy with just him?”  
  
Bellamy sighed. “Because she loves Persephone best, O,” he said gently. “Even Jason loves her best. But Jason isn’t important to this story.”  
  
Octavia sucked in her bottom lip and chewed it for a moment, then she said quietly, _“I_ like Jason.”  
  
“You don’t even know him,” Bellamy pointed out. He stroked her hair and pulled her close. “It’s okay, Octavia,” he said softly. “Jason doesn’t mind.”  
  
She clung to him, but then suddenly she burst into tears, and he held her close, just whispering softly to her until she quieted. She choked out again, “But I _like_ Jason.”  
  
“You’re being silly,” Bellamy teased her lightly, shaking his head. “Jason isn’t even part of this story.”  
  
“I like him,” she said stubbornly. “I do.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” he assured her. “So springtime is when Demeter first sees her daughter again, and summer is when the three of them spend lots of time together and they’re happy. Better?”  
  
It wasn’t quite, but it was good enough, and she nodded. “Better.”  
  
“We should have a nap before Mom gets home,” he told her, already yawning, exhausted from the day of school and then pony rides and then storytelling.  
  
She nodded, curling into him, but she couldn’t sleep. “Bell?” she whispered after a long time, not sure if he was still awake.  
  
“Hmm?” he mumbled, stirring a little.  
  
“I want Demeter to love Persephone _and_ Jason the most.”  
  
Bellamy pressed his lips to her hair and shook his head. “There’s no such thing as loving everyone the most,” he murmured, already drifting back to sleep.  
  
It hurt to see just how much their mother put her needs before Bellamy’s, how she always considered the comfort and happiness of her daughter first, but acknowledged her son like an afterthought. Octavia wanted things to be equal- she wanted Aurora to consider Bellamy’s feelings, and to notice how sometimes when she overlooked him, his brown eyes became small and far away. Octavia herself always noticed, but she was not the one who could fix it.  
  
But she also knew that what Bellamy said was true, that there _was_ no such thing as loving everyone the most. After all, even Octavia was guilty of it- she loved her brother most of all.


	9. 9- Bellamy

While the inspectors moved around their quarters, Bellamy appeared outwardly calm, even bored, and his mother laughed and joked with some of the men, as the others rifled through their meager possessions, lifting up their mattresses, and searching the bathroom.  
  
Bellamy looked anywhere but at the loose floor panel beneath the table, wanting to make sure he didn’t give the slightest indication that Octavia was there, huddled under the floor.  
  
“So, Inspector Clegg,” Aurora was saying. “I think Bellamy would make a great guard one day… maybe you could give us some tips about what he should do to look good to the selection committee?”  
  
This was something his mother had started bringing up over the last few months- that Bellamy should become a guard.  
  
“Just think of it,” she’d say to him at the dinner table. “If you were a guard, you’d always know the rotations, the inspection schedule, and you’d have access to bigger quarters. You and your sister could have a window, and a bedroom for each of you- wouldn’t that be nice?”  
  
“What about you, Mommy?” Octavia would ask.  
  
“I’d visit you all the time,” she promised. “But this would be a long time from now… I’d be old.”  
  
“Mom, you could come too,” Bellamy protested. “If I had quarters like that, there’d be lots of room for all of us.” In spite of himself, he would get very into the idea- imagining all the things he could give Octavia if he was a guard.  
  
And not just any guard- Aurora planned for him to be _chief_ guard. “That’s why we have to start preparing now,” she’d told him. “We have to do everything we can to get you ready.”  
  
Now, at the inspection, Bellamy’s face burned a little as his mother peppered the inspector with questions about how Bellamy might become a guard. He stole a glance at the man, who looked amused.  
  
“How old are you, son?” he asked Bellamy.  
  
“Ten, sir,” he answered, his posture straight.  
  
He chuckled. “Ten, huh?” Turning his attention back to Aurora he said, “No rush, he’s still got five years before he can take the cadet entrance exam.”  
  
“That’s true, but we both know it’s not just about the exam. It’s important for Bellamy to start making connections now, isn’t it?”  
  
Inspector Clegg seemed uncomfortable for a moment, his eyes flickering between Aurora and Bellamy before he finally said, “Yes, that’s true… but it’s not just about who you know. It’s also about who you are.”  
  
“And who does he need to be?” his mother asked evenly. Bellamy’s face was so hot he felt like he had a fever, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at them.  
  
But he could still hear them, and he heard the inspector say, “Frankly, a boy from Factory Station has about as much chance of becoming a guard as he has of becoming Chancellor.” Reaching over to Bellamy and ruffling his hair he said, “Stick to production, kid. We can always use more workers.”  
  
Bellamy didn’t have to look at his mother to know that she was seething with rage, but a moment later the inspection was over and the guards all left. Bellamy kept his eyes on the floor as he headed for the table.  
  
Aurora reached out and grabbed him, flattening his back against the wall next to their bunks. The ladder rungs dug into his back as he looked into his mother’s angry dark gaze. “Don’t you listen to them,” she said vehemently. “You can do _anything,_ Bellamy. You _will_ be a guard.”  
  
“I know, Mom,” he said, wanting very badly to wriggle out of her grip but staying absolutely still under the intensity of her glare. “It’s okay… but can we please open the floor now?” He knew Octavia would know the inspection was over, and she would be scared down there, waiting for them to let her out. Every second that passed with her down there unnecessarily made him feel nauseous with sympathy.  
  
But Aurora clearly wasn’t finished. “You know your sister is your responsibility,” she told him. “You have to look after her.”  
  
“I know, Mom.”  
  
“No, _listen_ to me,” she growled at him. _“You_ have to look after her, Bellamy. _Forever._ When I die, it’ll just be the two of you. You can’t let anything get in the way of that. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Now please let me take care of her already!”  
  
This seemed to get through to her as she blinked, studying his face for a moment before she let him go, nodding her head. She watched him run to the table, push it out of the way, and set aside the floor panel, reaching in for the four-year-old. Aurora continued to watch as Octavia clung tightly to Bellamy, burying her face in his shoulder. Bellamy rubbed a hand over her back soothingly, murmuring softly to her, but he was looking at his mother. Aurora’s expression was intense, but unreadable. Something about it unnerved him.  
  
“I’m going to work now, Bellamy,” she told him, walking over and passing a hand first over his hair, then over Octavia’s. She set the floor panel into place and said, “Dinner’s over there on the counter. Sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked to the door and reached for the handle, but she paused momentarily and said softly, “I love you both.” And then she was gone.  
  
Both children relaxed the moment they were alone, and Bellamy let Octavia cling to him a little longer before he asked, “Hungry?”  
  
She pulled back, nodded her head, and followed him to the table, climbing up onto one of the chairs and watching as he got their dinner and set it in front of her, letting her eat first.  
  
They were both silent for a long time, until Octavia said softly, “Bell?”  
  
“Yeah?” he asked, finally unable to resist the food as he started to eat as well. He looked at his sister’s face, her wrinkled up little forehead, and waited.  
  
“I don’t want you to be a guard.”  
  
He looked at her in surprise. “Why not? If I was a guard, we’d have more food and a better place to live.”  
  
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, frowning at the table. When she looked at him, he could see her eyes were shining with tears. “But you’d be a monster,” she whispered.  
  
His face immediately softened and he shook his head. “No, I won’t be a monster,” he promised her. “Don’t worry, Octavia.”  
  
“But you’ll be mean and go into people’s houses, right?” She looked around at all their ransacked possessions with obvious distress.  
  
Bellamy shifted uncomfortably. Finally he said, “When I become a guard, I’ll be different. And if I become _chief_ guard, then I’ll make everyone else different too.”  
  
Octavia watched him carefully, chewing on her lip thoughtfully for a long moment, and then she smiled and nodded. “Good. I want a window, Bell. A big window. I want to see _everything.”_  
  
“Me too,” he said, smiling at her enthusiasm. “Then we could look at moonrises every day _._ They’re so amazing, O… you’ll love them.”  
  
She nodded eagerly and said, “I can’t wait! When, Bell? When will we get our window?”  
  
“Not for a while,” he told her gently. “When you’re as big as me, I’ll start training. A few years after that, I’ll become a guard… and a few years after _that,_ chief guard.” He had a wistful smile on his face, imagining it- all he would one day be able to give her. She deserved all of it and more: her own bed, a window to look outside, and more space to move around… space to grow. They were such simple dreams, but in their life, they seemed so huge.  
  
There was another dream Bellamy had, one that his mother hadn’t planted, but that he’d thought up on his own. He kept it a secret, both from Aurora and from Octavia, but to him it was everything. That dream was this: when he became a guard, he would have access to everything; not just the rotations; not just the inspection schedule; not just a better quality of life. As a guard, Bellamy would know about those places of the Ark that weren’t watched- places under repair, or off-limits, or unmanned. He could take Octavia there, and let her see everything, do anything. She could be free in a way that she had never known.  
  
By age ten, Bellamy had long since discovered his greatest desire- to see his sister walk free, to see her light up and glow and step out into the corridors of the Ark like she belonged there. That dream, simple but beautiful, would follow him for years.


	10. 10- Octavia

They were right in the midst of that magical time when the entire Blake family was all at home together. Octavia loved that time, no matter how they spent it- there was something soft and magical about the three of them at home together. The only downside was that she and Bellamy had to be more careful: they couldn’t ever talk about the Ark in front of Aurora. Octavia had to pretend that she wasn’t curious about life outside their quarters, and Bellamy had to pretend that he wasn’t cultivating that curiosity like a secret, fragile garden.  
  
They were at the dining room table and had just finished dinner. Aurora was working on a piece of sewing with Octavia, helping to position her hands and carefully around the scrap fabric. Occasionally the needle stabbed Octavia’s finger, but Aurora never let her cry.  
  
“One day soon you’ll have tougher skin on your fingers,” she told her, rubbing the ends of her own rough fingers against Octavia’s cheek teasingly, making her giggle and forget her pain.  
  
Usually Bellamy just sat quietly with his homework, and often even once that was done Aurora expected him to pore over the Cadet’s Training Manual. Once he’d complained that he’d have the thing memorised by the time he was eleven.  
  
“Well, once you’ve memorised it you’ll be able to recite the whole thing to me. And if you can’t do that, then you’ll have to keep reading.”  
  
Bellamy would glower a little, but say nothing, just picking up the tablet again and starting to read. Octavia felt sorry for him- the amount of times he’d read it to her, she was pretty sure _she’d_ have it memorised before she’d ever learn to read it by herself.  
  
But Octavia was not going to be a guard- she was going to be a seamstress. As she got older she would help her mother with her work, and Bellamy would continue on his pathway to chief guard. When her mother was too old to take in as much work, Octavia would pick up the slack. And when Aurora was dead, Octavia would make her own clothes, like Aurora did now, so Bellay would never be caught buying anything for her. Together, the two of them would survive.  
  
It was depressing that at four years old, Octavia knew all this, but she didn’t know it. Her life was planned out, Bellamy’s life was planned out, and that’s all she knew. Unlike her brother, she didn’t have the outside world to compare things to.  
  
“Octavia,” Aurora said as she helped her line up a particularly difficult stitch. “How many different coloured threads are there?”  
  
Octavia sucked in her bottom lip and looked down at the spools of coloured thread scattered out on their metal table. She reached out a hand and curled it around them, pulling them close to her and lining them up. She touched each one, counting under her breath.  
  
“Eight?” she asked, slightly uncertain.  
  
Aurora nodded. “That’s right, and what if I take two away?” She reached out and closed her hand around two of the spools, red and blue, and put them back in her sewing kit. Again Octavia reached out to count them up, but Aurora stopped her. “No, do the math. What’s eight take away two?”  
  
Octavia frowned deeply, trying very hard to work it out. “Eight… take away… two,” she muttered to herself, looking at the spools of thread, her brows knitted together.  
  
“Think about it like this, O,” her brother spoke up cheerfully. “If-”  
  
“Bellamy,” Aurora interrupted sharply. “Don’t help her. She needs to learn this for herself.”  
  
“But Mom, it’s hard,” he protested.  
  
“And she’s smart,” their mother countered. But Aurora’s words weren’t exactly encouraging, but firm.  
  
Octavia pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it a little while she stared at the spools. They started to blur together, and she realised her eyes had filled with tears.  
  
“What’s eight take away two?” Aurora insisted. “Come on, Octavia, you can _do_ this.”  
  
“Mommy, I don’t know,” she insisted, her lower lip trembling just a little. “Four?”  
  
“No,” her mother said firmly. “Try again.”  
  
“Five?”  
  
“Don’t just _guess,”_ Aurora said with obvious exasperation. “There were eight there, and then we took away two. How many are left?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Octavia whispered, and a few tears slid down her face.  
  
“Mom, let her count!” Bellamy suddenly exploded, slamming his tablet down on the table and getting out of his chair. He went around to Octavia and slid an arm around her shoulders. Much more gently he said softly, “It’s okay, O, you can do this. Go ahead and count them.”  
  
But she was scared to count, scared to get in trouble again. She looked at the thread and saw that they were still all blurring together, so she turned her face to her brother and her lip trembled again as she slowly shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Bell.”  
  
His face softened and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair for a moment as he let her cling to him a little. When she pulled back she was a little calmer, and she looked back at the spools- they were no longer swimming before her eyes. She reached out her hand and touched each one in turn, counting carefully.  
  
“Six,” she said, brightening. “Eight take away two is six.” She looked to Aurora proudly, but her mother’s frown knocked the smile off her face.  
  
“Next time you have to do it in your head,” she said shortly. Octavia tried to grasp exactly how that might be done, but before she could Aurora had put a blank piece of paper and a pencil in front of her and she said, “Now your letters.”  
  
Her brother let out a breath and sank back into his chair, picking his tablet up again but not reading from it. “Mom, come on… leave her alone.”  
  
“She needs to learn these things, Bellamy,” she answered sharply.  
  
“She _is_ learning, but she’s only four. If she was allowed out she wouldn’t even be going to school yet.”  
  
“You know that doesn’t have anything to do with anything,” she retorted.  
  
Octavia was alternating between sucking her lip between her teeth and then letting it go. “Don’t fight,” she whispered. “Please.”  
  
Aurora looked at her and then she took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. Sometimes she found her mother’s intense gaze scary, and this was one of those times. Vehemently Aurora said, “I’m teaching you this because it’s important, Octavia. Because even though you live in this room, your world is bigger than that. It’s my job, and Bellamy’s job, to keep it that way.”  
  
Clenching her little fists, Octavia couldn’t escape her mother’s hard gaze. Even sucking on her lip wasn’t giving her any kind of comfort now, and she squirmed under her mother’s scrutiny.  
  
Then the words boiled out of her throat before she could stop them, “Then why can’t I just go out?”  
  
The silence was deafening. Next to her, Bellamy held his breath.  
  
If Octavia had thought her mother’s gaze was intense a moment ago, now it was like absolute fire.  
  
She clenched her hands around Octavia’s shoulders and lifted her up off her chair and over to the other side of the room, setting her down in front of the small step near the door. Aurora’s teeth were so clenched that her jaw was like a rock as she stared at her young daughter. She looked like a monster. Octavia couldn’t see Bellamy behind her, though she tried desperately.  
  
“Go on,” Aurora said suddenly, drawing her attention back.  
  
Octavia blinked at her. “What?”  
  
“Go on,” her mother repeated, grabbing her daughter by the arm and pushing her until she was standing right in front of the door. “You want to go? _Go.”_  
  
“Mom-” Bellamy’s voice came.  
  
Octavia heard his chair push back from the table, but Aurora held up her hand, not even turning towards him.  
  
“Don’t you take another step, Bellamy Blake. I’m talking to your sister.”  
  
Octavia’s lip trembled, her eyes filled with tears, and her hands shook. “But- but you’ll get floated,” she protested.  
  
“Yes,” Aurora said, nodding her head, her gaze still so intense it made Octavia want to squirm. “I will. But if you want to go then go.”  
  
“But… the monsters.” Octavia could no longer hold back her tears and they slid down her cheeks in silence.  
  
“If you want to go out there, then go out there,” Aurora repeated.  
  
Softly she whispered, “No.”  
  
Her mother just glared at her for a long time, and then she nodded, putting her hands under Octavia’s armpits and lifting her, turning her body to set her back down on the upper floor of the tiny apartment.  
  
Octavia could see Bellamy now, standing next to the table, and she pulled away from Aurora and ran to him, nearly knocking him over as she clung to him tightly, soaking the front of his shirt with her tears. She could feel her mother’s eyes on them, and she tried to be brave, but it was too hard.  
  
“I’m going to work,” Aurora said finally, though Octavia didn’t look at her, just keeping her face buried in Bellamy’s chest.  
  
Only when the door opened and closed did either child relax. Then Bellamy took her by the hand and led her to their mother’s bunk, where he crawled in and let her snuggle against him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Octavia laid her cheek against his heartbeat and listened to the steady, dependable beat.  
  
“Mom loves you, O,” he said softly, as he often did. But what Bellamy didn’t know was this: every time he said it, every time Aurora gave him a _reason_ to say it, she believed it just a little bit less.


	11. 11- Bellamy

It was the middle of the night, a few hours after Aurora was home from her work and a few hours before Bellamy was due to wake up for school. The family was fast asleep, and at this age Octavia only woke up once during the night, to swap from Aurora’s bed to Bellamy’s, or Bellamy’s to Aurora’s. This time she’d ended up in Bellamy’s bed, and he was lying on his back, with his tiny sister curled into his side like a baby- her ear over his heartbeat, her knees tucked against his thigh.  
  
A sudden voice over the loudspeaker woke Bellamy and Aurora from their deep sleep, “Solar flare alert.” Instantly their mother was out of bed, gathering up their clothes. Bellamy watched her as the voice went on, “A Y-class solar flare has begun on the port side of the Ark.”  
  
“Mom-”  
  
“Hush now, Bellamy,” Aurora interrupted him. “You’ll wake your sister.”  
  
The announcement was continuing, “All citizens must report to the nearest shelter zone immediately.”  
  
Bellamy watched Octavia’s sleeping face as his mother opened the floor and then got dressed, then came over this his bunk, curling her arms gently under her daughter and easing her from the bed. She set Bellamy’s clothes on the mattress and said, “Get dressed.”  
  
He pulled off his pajama top and replaced it with a t-shirt, then did the same with his pants. As he did so, Aurora carried Octavia to the hole and laid her inside, on a blanket.  
  
“Mom!” Bellamy exclaimed, grabbing the ladder next to his bunk and using it to swing onto the floor. “We can’t just leave her there, she’ll wake up and be scared.”  
  
“Shhh,” Aurora hissed, grabbing the floor panel.  
  
But Bellamy couldn’t stand it- the idea of her waking up there, cold and alone, after she’d fallen asleep nestled next to him. He’d been the last thing she’d seen when she’d gone to sleep, so it felt like his responsibility to stop this.  
  
Before Aurora could do anything, Bellamy knelt down beside the hole and called out, gently but firmly, “Octavia.” He put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Bellamy!” his mother snapped, reaching for him, but he held onto the lip of the hole and watched his sister’s eyes open.  
  
“Hey, O,” he said gently, seeing her panic, then relax a little as her big eyes looked up to him. “Don’t worry, me and Mom have to go because there’s a flare, but you’ll be safe here.”  
  
He saw her lower lip tremble. “Bell, no.”  
  
“It’s okay, the flare can’t get you in here, you’re protected by the bulkheads,” he assured her, even though he knew she wasn’t afraid of the flare- she was afraid of being alone, of that long drawn-out silence and darkness, of not knowing when they would be back. Even the clock he’d given her was useless now.  
  
“Octavia, you’ll be fine,” Aurora said sternly, advancing with the panel.  
  
“Mom, can’t I stay with her?” Bellamy blurted out- the look on Octavia’s face was breaking his heart.  
  
“No,” she answered sharply, clearly annoyed. “They have a roster in each shelter and if we’re not _both_ there, then they’ll think one of us is in danger from the flare and they’ll come looking, and they might find her.” She gave Octavia a hard look and then said to Bellamy, “Tell your sister what happens then.”  
  
Bellamy hung his head and said the words softly, long since memorised, “You get taken away, Mom gets floated, and I grow up alone and miserable.”  
  
Octavia’s gaze was low as well, even in the hole. “It’s okay, Bell,” she whispered. “I’ll be okay.”  
  
Aurora reached down and stroked her daughter’s cheeks with her fingertips. “Good girl.” She leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head. “I know you’re scared, but what do we say about fear?”  
  
“It’s a demon,” Octavia answered in a whisper.  
  
“It’s a demon,” Aurora agreed, nodding her head. “Now be my brave girl and stay quiet.” She smiled down at her daughter once more, and then she grabbed the floor panel and slid it into place.  
  
It wasn’t until the two of them were outside their quarters that Aurora grabbed Bellamy’s arm roughly and dragged him down the corridor until they were alone, leaning down and grabbing him by his upper arms. Her eyes were hard as she hissed, “Don’t you _ever_ do that again. She needs to see us _united,_ Bellamy.”  
  
“But she doesn’t need to be so scared, Mom,” he protested. “She doesn't need to be scared _all the time.”_  
  
“Listen to me,” she said insistently. “When I’m gone, you can do things however you like. But while I’m here, we do things _my_ way. Don’t you _ever_ think that I don’t love both of you with every bit of what I have. But I’m not here to be your friend, Bellamy- not yours, and _not_ hers. I’m here to keep you safe, and keep you alive. Anything else is just a bonus.”  
  
Bellamy glanced away, his eyes dark. “What about happy, Mom? Don’t you want Octavia to be happy?”  
  
She let out a long breath and held his cheeks in her hands, gently coaxing his gaze back to hers. “Bellamy. Of course I do.”  
  
Before either of them could say anything else, an announcement came over the loudspeaker, “All citizens should now be in their nearest shelter zone. Anyone still outside the shelter zones in five minutes will be committing an offence.”  
  
Aurora grabbed her son’s hand and hurried him along to Factory Station’s shelter zone. They checked in with the guard at the door, endured a stern lecture about punctuality, and then were admitted into the shelter zone. It seemed that the Blakes were the last to arrive, as the doors were sealed a few moments later.  
  
His mother kept her hand around Bellamy’s and took him to a quiet area of the shelter, where they could sit and wait out the flare. No one approached them, no one spoke to them- none of the women approached Aurora to chat, and none of the kids approached Bellamy to play. They were outsiders, even within their own station. Bellamy squirmed, watching the other children- his classmates- playing together, but he tried to hide the fact that he was watching, not wanting to get noticed and teased. His mother seemed unbothered by their invisibility, and just sat back against the wall, closing her eyes as she waited for the flare to pass.  
  
Bellamy was still tired, so he sat down next to his mother and nudged into her side, letting her slide an arm around him as he yawned and felt his eyes already growing heavy. He was worried about Octavia, but there was nothing he could do for her from here, so it seemed to make the most sense to just sleep.  
  
He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he was woken up by the sound of his mother’s voice, low but angry, “… away from us.”  
  
Instantly on alert, Bellamy straightened and looked up into Roman’s face- Octavia’s father, who was bearing down on Aurora, his face red, his eyes angry, his fists clenched, and his lip curled up in anger. He looked very much like Octavia did when she was having a tantrum, only older and much scarier.  
  
“Go away,” Bellamy said, quietly but insistently.  
  
Roman glared at him and whispered, “I’m talking to your mother, Bellamy. Unless _you’d_ care to explain how she could leave her own child vulnerable to a flare like this?”  
  
Bellamy’s eyes flew to the other people in the shelter, but most were asleep, and those who were awake weren’t paying any attention to them. Gritting his teeth, he glared at Roman and hissed, “She’s fine. She’s under the floor.”  
  
“Don’t talk to him, Bellamy,” Aurora snapped.  
  
“Don’t talk to me?” Roman growled. “Don’t talk to _me?_ No, of course not- I’m only her goddamn father!”  
  
“Keep your voice down,” Aurora hissed, but Bellamy couldn’t help but note- grudgingly- that Roman’s tone was barely above a whisper; he was actually trying to keep Octavia safe. But Bellamy still didn’t trust him.  
  
“Can’t you just leave us alone?” he pleaded.  
  
“I’ve _tried_ to,” he snapped. “I’ve _tried_ to leave it alone, but it’s pretty goddamn hard when it doesn’t even look like your mother can take care of her properly.”  
  
Bellamy gritted his teeth and said, “We take _great_ care of her.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Roman retorted. “Well, we’re all taking shelter from this goddamn flare, and where is she?” The fact that his voice was quiet didn’t detract from the obvious anger in his tone. “Waiting in your quarters, all alone?”  
  
“She’s under the floor,” Bellamy snapped, his heart pounding. “She’ll be fine.”  
  
“She’s _four,_ Aurora,” Roman snapped, turning his attention back to Bellamy’s mother. “You can’t just lock her away in a cupboard when she’s inconvenient.”  
  
Bellamy was about to lose it, about to yell and draw way too much attention to them, but then they were interrupted before he could even open his mouth. A woman who was a few years younger than Aurora approached him, putting a hand gently on his arm. Bellamy really didn’t like how she was looking at his mother as she said, “Roman, what are you doing, talking to someone like this?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust, as though Aurora was dirty. “People are going to gossip if they see you with someone in _her_ profession.”

Frowning, Bellamy couldn’t make sense of this- what was wrong with a seamstress? Why would it be bad for Roman to talk to someone in her profession? But he knew better than to ask.  
  
Then he noticed something stirring on the woman’s chest, and he knew right away she had a baby strapped to her, maybe even a toddler- it was under her sweater. He couldn’t take his eyes off the squirming bundle.  
  
“Come on, honey,” she said softly to Roman, pulling gently on his arm. She didn’t even look at Bellamy as she tugged him away, but Bellamy hardly noticed- he was too overcome.  
  
Roman had another child.  
  
_This_ was why he hadn’t bothered them in the last couple of years. _This_ was why he hadn’t pursued Octavia, hadn’t tried to come to their quarters again, why he hadn’t tried to take her like he’d claimed he wanted, like he’d threatened.  
  
Bellamy felt a mix of emotions along with his realisation- disbelief, sadness, fear, but also joy. Relief. Even if Roman _wanted_ to take Octavia, he couldn't now. Not ever. Not unless he wanted to hide her too, or hide that baby- and he wouldn’t do that. They were free.  
  
“Mom?” Bellamy asked tentatively.  
  
But the look she gave him killed any other words he might have spoken. It also told him everything he needed to know- that she and Roman had interacted- at least once- since Roman had confronted Bellamy outside his school. That she was aware of this child. That she had been aware of it for some time.  
  
He laid his head back against the wall and swallowed, staring at the ceiling of the shelter for a long time, deep in thought.  
  
Then his mother spoke, which he hadn’t really expected. Softly she said to him, “Bellamy, do you know what a family is?”  
  
He looked up at her, studying her face for a minute, but he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or sad as she looked down at him, but then she smiled and he felt himself relax just a little.  
  
“Do you think a family is more about how much blood you share? That you’re a family as long as you have a relative in common, even if you’re strangers to each other? Or do you think it’s more about growing up with someone, spending every day together, knowing each other’s likes and dislikes, being there for each other through good and bad?” Her eyes had taken on an intensity now that made him want to squirm as she insisted, “Which one do you think is more important, Bellamy- blood or love?”  
  
“Love,” he answered right away. Of course it was love- he had no doubt of _that._ She rewarded him for his correct answer by stroking her fingers through his hair, but her hand stopped short as he added softly, ”But can’t it be both, Mom?”  
  
His mother pulled her hand away, setting it in her lap. He saw a stiffness take hold of her body as she looked away from him and said, “For some people it can, Bellamy. But not for us.”


	12. 12- Octavia

She was on her pony, riding through the forest, admiring all the pretty birds and lush plants, sunlight drifting through the leaves of the canopy up above them. At five years old, Octavia should have been in school. But instead she had Bellamy, who said, “Look, O, see that big tree over there? The leaves are long and have pointy bits on the sides- each one looks like a little tree itself. They have nuts that are good to eat. Acorns… but only if they’re brown, not green.”  
  
“Acorns,” she repeated, rolling the unfamiliar word around in her mouth so she could learn its taste on her tongue. “Why not when they’re green?”  
  
“Because they’re not ready yet,” he answered, piggybacking her around their quarters. At this age Octavia could now see their furniture poking through the forest floor, but she was still mostly in the fantasyland. Bellamy went on, “There are also berries in the forest that are good to eat, but some are poison. How do you know which ones to eat, O?”  
  
“You watch the birds,” she said, knowing that answer from one of his other lessons.  
  
“That’s right,” he complimented her, tossing a grin over his shoulder at her. “You’re better at Earth Skills than I am.”  
  
She grinned back, always happy to be praised by her brother, even if ponies weren’t supposed to talk. They’d been at this for an hour now, so he finally set her down, letting her slide to the floor. Octavia loved that no matter how big she got, she was never too big for pony rides because Bellamy was growing too. Now, at eleven, his back was starting to broaden and strengthen, and he could always hold her up with ease.  
  
The forest faded away and Octavia’s eyes immediately trailed toward their door as she let out a long breath. “Bell, I want to go outside,” she said, a mantra that had become increasingly common in recent months. He’d made her promise never to say it in front of their mother, but she wouldn't be home for hours.  
  
“I know, but you can’t,” he said softly, his voice full of apology. He watched the disappointment flash across her face; she saw how much it hurt him, but she couldn’t help how she felt.  
  
“It’s not _fair,_ Bell,” she complained, frowning so deeply that her eyebrows sank halfway into her eyes.  
  
He watched her for a moment, then he leaned down again and said, “Get back on your pony, Octavia.”  
  
“No,” she protested stubbornly. “I don't want to play anymore.” Increasingly, her lack of freedom made her angry- she was old enough to feel the injustice of her entrapment, but not old enough to completely understand its necessity. This mix just made her more and more frustrated to be left out, to have to stay in this room that felt smaller every day, when Bellamy and their mother could leave whenever they wanted.  
  
He was still leaning down, waiting for her to climb on his back. “Please?”  
  
Octavia gave him a little shove that barely moved him. _“No,_ Bell, I don’t _want_ to play anymore,” she insisted.  
  
“It’ll be worth it,” he told her. “I promise.”  
  
That made her hesitate, and then after letting out a dramatic sigh just to show him how much of a favour she was doing him, she climbed on his back, anchoring her hands over his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. He grabbed her skinny thighs in his hands and stood upright, and she tried not to enjoy the feeling, tried to force herself to remain grumpy.  
  
“Close your eyes, O,” he said softly, and there was something about his voice that made her obey him. It was his storyteller voice, the one he used when something magical was about to happen.  
  
“You’ve got to keep your eyes shut, because this is a big deal, okay?” Bellamy warned her.  
  
“I will,” she promised, her voice hushed, losing herself a little in the moment.  
  
“I’m going to take you on a tour of the Ark,” he said softly, in that magic voice, and she held her breath as he started to move, very slowly, taking careful steps around their quarters.  
  
“Okay, O, we’re going to go out the front door now,” he said, and she felt them moving that way. She felt the slight drop of the step as they moved from the upper to the lower floor of their quarters, and then her breath caught as she heard the front door open.  
  
His movements were smooth, gentle, as he gripped her legs in his hands to keep her safely tucked on his back. The front door closed and his voice took on an almost melodic rhythm as he said, “Now we’re in the corridor.” She wanted desperately to open her eyes, but a promise to Bellamy was a sacred thing, and she knew he was breaking every rule right now.  
  
“Just to the left is another door, where another family lives,” he said softly. “They’re our neighbours, but we’re right at the end of the corridor, so once you’re outside our quarters, the only way to go is forward.”  
  
She was scared that someone would see them, but she didn’t dare say anything as they continued to move.  
  
“The hallways here are lit with white lights, set into the walls every once in a while,” he told her. “They’re white glass, with little black rings around them, and they shine up toward the wall. Whether or not it’s night or day, the place always looks the same. When we get a little further, the corridor has bulkheads every once in a while… like metal rafters. They support the structure of the ship. Here there’s fluorescent lights, long skinny tubes that shine blue. There are pipes on the wall, and cords and buttons that we’re not allowed to touch. The hall goes down for a bit and then around a curve.”  
  
She felt him angle her, felt herself go around the bend in the corridor, and she could see the blue lights and the cords and pipes, the glowing buttons that she wished desperately to touch.  
  
“Some of the panels have even more cords and buttons and tubes behind them,” he told her. “But you have to be an engineer to open them. They fix the ship when it breaks.”  
  
Octavia could barely breathe. She could see every detail, every inch of the space they were moving through, and it was incredible.  
  
“Now here comes the best part, O,” he said, his voice hushed. “Up here, around this corner, there’s a window.”  
  
She pulled in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around his shoulders. “Really?” she whispered.  
  
“Really,” he agreed. “But remember, you have to keep your eyes closed. You know no one can see us, right?”  
  
“Right.” At five years old, it made sense that if _her_ eyes were closed, she was invisible. She wiggled a little against his back, hearing his soft laugh in response.  
  
“Okay, so we’re going around the bend now,” he told her in a hushed voice. “Here the corridor gets wider, and there are a couple others that meet it, like a junction. And just ahead, see that? It’s the window, O. It takes up the whole wall.”  
  
“Wow,” she whispered, her voice full of awe. She saw a huge glass section of wall, and outside, a vision of space just like all the photos she’d seen on her brother’s tablet.  
  
“See that big blue ball floating out there?” he asked her softly. “The one with the green and white bits? You know what that is, don’t you Octavia?”  
  
“Earth,” she whispered, which all the reverence she knew how to express. She saw it floating out there, in amongst the stars, hanging like a beautiful coloured marble, more vivid than anything she’d ever seen in her world of grey. “It’s so beautiful, Bell.”  
  
“It is,” he agreed, his voice gentle. “And see that little one-”  
  
“The moon!” she exclaimed, before he could even finish. She could see it now, the little orb floating just off the Earth’s surface, cute and pockmarked. She giggled and said, “It’s like the Earth’s little sister.”  
  
Bellamy seemed to like that. “Yeah, kind of… like I’m the Earth and you’re the moon. They never get too far away from each other either, O.”  
  
She just watched them, watched the colours of the land and the wisps of white cloud that swirled across the surface, like the globe was some kind of painting.  
  
“And our great-great-grandparents used to _live_ down there?” she asked him, knowing it was true but hardly able to believe it.  
  
“They sure did,” he answered warmly. “And the people on the Ark now… they’re great-great-grand _children_ will live there someday too.”  
  
She hardly knew what to say after that- she was so overcome with the beauty of what she was seeing, the unbelievable majesty of it, the happiness at being allowed to see it. Bellamy soon told her they had to go back to their quarters, but she didn’t even mind. She’d seen the Earth, the moon, the stars… finally.  
  
She laid her cheek against the back of his neck, keeping her eyes closed as her pony took her back around the bend, down the corridor, through the front door, and up the step in their quarters. “Hop off,” he said gently, and she did. “Now open your eyes.”  
  
They were next to the bunks, Octavia on her feet with Bellamy crouched down next to her. His face was full of love, his smile soft. “How was that?”  
  
Octavia threw her arms around her brother and she let him straighten up, let him wrap his arms around her and hold her close as she buried her face in his shoulder, her eyes full of tears. “Perfect,” she whispered. On some level she knew they hadn't really gone outside... but somehow that just didn't matter.  
  
When he finally put her down again, he smiled down at her and said, “Time for a nap?”  
  
“Only if we go again tomorrow, Bell,” she answered eagerly. “Take me on the tour again tomorrow, okay? _Please?”_  
  
He laughed softly and nodded his head and promised her that he would.  
  
After that, she happily snuggled in between the sheets and let him tuck her in so she could sleep until their mother came home with dinner. She dreamt that she was just a normal girl, living on the Ark, going to school and playing with other kids, running through those corridors she had now seen. Her dreams were so vivid, she could almost believe they were true.  
  
When she woke again, it was to a cool hand on her forehead, and her mother’s intense brown gaze. “Mommy,” she said eagerly. “I saw the Ark!”  
  
Bellamy’s worried face next to his mother’s made Octavia stiffen suddenly as she realised that, in her enthusiasm, she’d given away their secret without thinking.  
  
But their mother didn’t even seem to notice as she muttered to Bellamy, “She’s burning up.” When Aurora spoke, Octavia watched as her breath made patterns of smoke in the air, first blue, then green, then pink.  
  
She couldn’t help but giggle, the sight was so odd. “Mommy, why is your breath all smoky?”  
  
“She’s delirious,” Aurora muttered. At first, Octavia couldn't grasp the seriousness of the situation- it was just too funny. But Bellamy’s face, his stricken expression, chased away her humour and she felt fear rising in her chest. “Bell?”  
  
“It’s okay, O, you’ll be fine,” he said, but she heard the waver in his voice and then she was terrified.  
  
“Bellamy, get a bowl of water and a cloth- lukewarm, not cold,” Aurora ordered, and Octavia watched her brother hurry out of sight. She wished he hadn’t, feeling her fear worsen in his absence. Then her mother was pulling off her clothes, stripping her down as quickly as possible, except every movement of fabric against her skin felt like pain.  
  
“Mommy, stop!” she yelled, and Aurora clapped a hand over her mouth immediately.  
  
“Shhh,” she hissed, her eyes full of fear. Octavia had thought she’d been whispering, and struggled under her mother’s vice-like grip.  
  
Bellamy returned and Octavia relaxed just a little, but she was still scared. She could feel her body trembling just a little, and as her mother dipped the cloth into the bowl of water and started running it over her skin, she squirmed, trying to escape the feeling of the cloth on her skin, the water droplets running down.  
  
“Mom,” Bellamy said urgently, watching Octavia with a look that made her scared. “What do we do?”  
  
“Nothing,” she answered sharply. “It’ll pass.”  
  
“But Mom-”  
  
“It’ll _pass,_ Bellamy,” she said. “Fever is just her body’s way of fighting off a virus. She’ll be fine, we’ll just keep her cool and comfortable until it runs its course.”  
  
“Mommy, I’m scared,” Octavia whimpered, not liking any of this- the feeling of her body trembling, the strange discomfort caused by the water, the heat, the brightness of the lights that hurt her eyes, and most of all the nervousness on her brother’s face.  
  
Aurora put her hands on Octavia’s cheeks and looked into her eyes. As her mother gazed at her, Octavia couldn’t help but notice that Aurora’s skin had turned orange. It wasn’t right, and she tried to close her eyes and get rid of it, but it was still there when she opened them again. When her mother spoke, those strange misty colours came out of her mouth again, and Octavia felt like she was choking on them.  
  
“Octavia,” Aurora said firmly. “Don’t be afraid. Fear is a demon, and you have to fight it. You can’t let it win. Do you understand me?” She let go of her cheeks and walked away, getting a cup and going to the bathroom sink to fill it with water. Bellamy reached for the cloth and dipped it in the water, cradling her arm in his lap and sliding the cloth along her skin. It didn’t make her feel any cooler.  
  
“Bell, I’m scared,” she whispered, not wanting their mother to overhear, needing comfort and not talk of demons or fighting.  
  
“It’s okay,” he whispered back, looking into her eyes. “Don’t worry, O, you know I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”  
  
She pulled in a deep breath and nodded, closing her eyes. She let him bathe her with the water, and then she drank half the cup her mother offered her, but mostly she just wanted to be left alone. Eventually, Aurora went to sleep in the top bunk, but Bellamy stayed next to Octavia, staying up past his bedtime and holding her, whispering stories into her ears.  
  
As her fever raged, she understood what he was saying less and less, but his tone helped her- anchored her, reassured her that she was still there. Sometimes she felt like she was far away or floating, other times like she was a slave to her own body, the feeling of burning engulfing her until she wanted to run away from her own skin. Many times Bellamy refreshed the bowl of water, and many times she was sponged down, but it seemed to do little to cool her.  
  
Then, suddenly, she felt herself fall backwards into sleep like she’d been hit in the head with it, and everything went dark. She heard nothing, saw nothing, dreamed nothing, until she jolted awake again with a shrill scream.  
  
“Shshsh,” Bellamy urged her, his face coming into view slowly, his skin pale and his eyes full of panic. “Octavia! Are you okay?”  
  
His panic made her panic and she started crying. “What happened, Bell?” Her mouth was empty, but she felt like it was full of cotton as she spoke.  
  
“Mom, Mom!” he called out urgently, and Aurora rushed over to stand beside him- Octavia was confused. Hadn’t she been in bed?  
  
“Mommy,” she whimpered, reaching out for her.  
  
“It’s okay, Octavia,” she said gently, and she felt the coolness of her mother’s hand against her forehead. “You’re fine.”  
  
“She’s not _fine,”_ Bellamy exclaimed, sounding angry, clenching his fists. “She just had a seizure, Mom, something’s really wrong.”  
  
Octavia didn’t know what that was, but hearing that she wasn’t okay made her tears come even heavier as she reached for her brother, clinging to him. “Bell,” she sobbed, her eyes feeling glazed and strange.  
  
Bellamy picked her up and forced her into their mother’s arms before he said, “I’m doing something about this.”  
  
“What are you going to do?” Aurora demanded, reaching out a hand and closing it around his arm. Octavia pressed her face into the crook of her mother’s neck, trying to draw comfort from her scent.  
  
“I’m going to get her some medicine,” he snapped, pulling his arm away from her. Octavia had never seen her brother talk back to their mother like this, and Aurora seemed just as shocked by it.  
  
“You can’t just ‘get her some medicine,’” she bit out. But before she could say another word, Bellamy had slammed his way out of their quarters.  
  
Octavia pulled back and looked at her mother’s face, and she knew just from Aurora’s expression that she was going to leave her there and go after him. The panic that came with that realisation made her arms and legs tighten around her mother like a vice as she screamed, “Don’t leave me!”  
  
The hand clapped over her moth so hard it stung and now she had her mother’s full attention. “Octavia!” she said urgently, her eyes full of fear, her tone barely a whisper but somehow as intimidating as if she had shouted. “Be _quiet.”_  
  
But before Octavia could say another word, she felt that sensation of falling backwards once more, and then there was nothing but darkness again.


	13. 13- Bellamy

At first he ran through the corridors as fast as he could, absolutely positive that his mother was behind him. He felt guilty for that, knowing she would leave Octavia alone, but he had to do this- he had to _help_ her, not just stand there and do nothing while she got worse and worse.  
  
Seeing her have that seizure had been terrifying for him. Her eyes had suddenly rolled back in her head, her whole body had tensed up, and then she started twitching around. He and his mother had called for her, but she hadn’t even seemed to be aware they were next to her. It had probably only lasted a couple of minutes, but it had seemed like a lifetime. He wasn’t going to let that happen again- he couldn’t stand to watch it.  
  
He knew his mother wanted him to stay calm, to wait it out, to take care of his sister while she sweated through this fever. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but never so bad- she had never grown so hot that her skin burned him, or that it caused her to convulse. Bellamy knew the most likely reason why she was so sick- she was such a little thing, malnourished and without her vitamins, with no health checks or vaccines like he had. She had hardly any protection from the germs he and Aurora brought home every day.  
  
He knew there was a real chance she could die, and he didn’t know what he would do if that happened. Octavia was _his_ responsibility, so he didn’t care what his mother said… he was fixing this.  
  
When he realised he wasn’t actually being followed, his slowed his pace just a little. It was the early hours of the morning and a rest day- no work or school- but he was passing some people in the corridors, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Still, he kept up a quick pace, leaving Factory Station- a rare occurrence- and making a beeline to Alpha so he could visit Medical.  
  
He hadn’t exactly thought of a plan. If he stole medicine and was caught, not only would he get in trouble himself- locked up in the SkyBox for seven years- but Octavia would definitely be discovered. Their mother would be floated, and his sister would grow up in some orphanage, alone and forgetting him.  
  
Bellamy stopped and leaned back against the wall, drawing in big breaths, feeling that tightness in his chest that he got when everything was too scary and overwhelming. It was something he’d never experienced before his sister’s birth, but afterward it was almost a weekly, sometimes daily, occurrence.  
  
After he forced himself to calm down, he rounded the corner and approached Medical slowly, at first just watching, passing by the door to try and get a sense of how busy it was. To his relief, it seemed to be a slow day for them, and he manage to shove his fear down long enough to cross over that barrier.  
  
The woman at the reception desk smiled warmly at him. “And what can I do for you, son?”  
  
“I’m sick,” he said reflexively, though it seemed a bit absurd- why else would he come here?  
  
“Where are your parents?” she asked him.  
  
“My mother’s at work,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t know the schedule for Factory. She seemed to, as she didn’t question him further.  
  
“ID chip please,” she said, tapping the scanner on her desk. Bellamy swiped his chip- something that Octavia would never have- knowing that it would bring up all his details on her screen… his family, his medical history, even his school file.  
  
“Have a seat, and the doctor will be with you soon,” she told him. He did as she said, trying not to allow his legs to bounce from all his bundled-up nerves.  
  
As he was the only one in the waiting room, it didn’t take long for him to be called in. He felt hot and his heart was racing as he walked into the exam room. Even the doctor’s friendly smile didn’t put him at ease.  
  
She patted the exam table and Bellamy climbed onto it, feeling the crinkle of the paper beneath him.  
  
“I’m Abby,” the doctor said warmly, smiling at him. She was about his mother’s age, maybe a little older, but he didn’t trust her or anyone else from Alpha- his mother had instilled in him a suspicion towards anyone privileged a long time ago.  
  
But he forced a smile and nodded. “Bellamy.”  
  
“You’re sick?” she asked, scrutinising him. “You do look a bit warm.”  
  
She reached for a thermometer, but Bellamy said quickly, “No!” He knew his temperature would be normal, that his clammy look was just from fear. “Uh... my mom took my temperature already before she went to work. I do have a fever, I just came for something to bring it down.”  
  
Abby frowned. “Your mother left you home alone when you’re sick?”  
  
He stiffened and narrowed his eyes just a little at her. “If she doesn't go to work today, we don’t eat tomorrow,” he said quietly.  
  
Her face softening, Abby put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Humour me?” she asked him, holding out the thermometer again, but he shook his head. She sighed and laid the back of her hand against his forehead- her hands were cool… a mother’s hands.  
  
“If your kid was sick, wouldn’t you just fix it?” he asked her. “Without all the questions and checks?”  
  
“If my daughter was sick, I would definitely take her temperature before I gave her any fever medicine,” she answered him. “You know we can’t give out supplies without good reason, and giving someone medicine when they don’t need it can cause more harm than good.”  
  
His eyes filled with tears but he nodded his head. “Fine,” he whispered. He felt the touch of the thermometer probe to his ear and he heard the beep, then waited for her to send him away. When she didn’t speak, he finally looked at her again.  
  
“This isn’t for you, is it?” she asked, very gently.  
  
Bellamy’s heart froze. She _knew._ But how was that possible? How could she?  
  
His panic must have been obvious because she put her hands on his shoulders and said, “Hey, it’s okay… I understand. Is it for a friend? Someone over eighteen? Your mother, maybe? I know it’s hard when someone gets too old to qualify for free medicine.”  
  
He felt himself relax a little, and then he felt flooded with hope. He nodded, trying to look guilty although he was ecstatic. “Yeah, it’s for my friend… please can you just give me something? She’s really sick.”  
  
“How about this?” Abby asked him gently. “After my shift today, I’ll come by and check on her. How does that sound?”  
  
“No!” he exclaimed, his hopes dashed again. “No, you can’t, _please_ can I just have the medicine and go?”  
  
Abby looked at him for a long time. “You know, it wouldn’t have even helped her if I’d believed you were sick and given you children’s medicine. Adults need a stronger dose.” Bellamy let out a breath of frustration and started to climb off the table, but Abby stopped him. Gently she said, “Wait here.”  
  
Bellamy held his breath as she left him alone in the exam room. He tried to be good and sit still to wait for her, but he couldn't stand it, not knowing what was happening- was she reporting him? Was she going to see his mother?  
  
Creeping slowly to the door, Bellamy slid it open and saw no one- the corridor was deserted. He knew the left would lead him back to reception, but he didn’t want that. This was his chance- he _could_ steal the medicine. Octavia was worth it.  
  
Steeling himself, he tiptoed down the other way, sliding open the next door- another exam room. The second door was too, and the one after that was a supply closet. His heart pounding in fear, he thought about going back, but he _had_ to find that medicine. What if Octavia died because he was too scared? He could never forgive himself for that.  
  
The next door he slid open looked like some kind of staff room- there were lots of cushiony chairs, and a bowl of fresh fruit sitting on the table. Bellamy stared at it for a moment, trying to imagine how many rations it would take to get that much fruit, how much his mother would have to work to afford it.  
  
“Hi,” a voice came from beside him, making him jump. He turned his head and saw a blonde girl about Octavia’s age, maybe a little older. She giggled at him and put a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes sparkling with humour. “Sorry.”  
  
Bellamy shook his head. “No… I’m sorry. Wrong room.”  
  
“Are you visiting my mommy?”  
  
He was momentarily confused. “Is your mommy the doctor?” he asked her. “Abby?” When she nodded, he understood what she was doing here.  
  
She had a small bowl of strawberries in her lap, which she offered him. She’d been drawing, and he was surprised how good it was- much better than anything Octavia had produced, and she wasn’t much younger than this girl. She must have had a gift- or art classes, he realised, seeing as she was privileged.  
  
He took a strawberry and ate it fast, like someone was going to stop him. The kid found that funny and giggled at him, offering him another. Bellamy ate that one fast too, this time mostly just to make her laugh.  
  
“Hey,” he asked her, trying to sound casual. “Do you know where they keep the medicine around here?”  
  
She nodded and hopped off her chair, leading him out of the staff room and down the corridor toward reception. He was glad he’d found her, since he’d been going the wrong way. She took him into a little room, with shelf after shelf of medicine.  
  
He knew Abby would be back very soon by now, and his heart sank as he looked around at it all.  
  
“What’s wrong?” the little girl asked, seeming to sense his dismay.  
  
“I’m never going to find what I need in time,” he said, letting out a heavy breath.  
  
“I can,” she said brightly. “I can find it. What do you need?”  
  
“Fever medicine. For kids.”  
  
The little girl pulled over a stool and clambered up onto first that, then the counter. She pulled down a small bottle and held it out to him. “I’m going to be a doctor too one day,” she said proudly.  
  
He had no doubt that she would- growing up like _this,_ with every opportunity, she could be anything. He took the bottle from her and shook a few pills into his hand, shoving them in his pocket and handing it back so she could replace it on the shelf. Then he reached up and grabbed her under the arms, lowering her to the floor.  
  
“Hey,” he said, leaning down to her level. “Can this be our little secret? Don’t tell your mom I was here or that you gave me medicine, alright?”  
  
She nodded seriously, and then he left her there, figuring she would find her way back to that staff room- he was the one out of place here, not her.  
  
Slipping back into the exam room, he got back up on the table and settled into the crinkly paper, trying to quiet his racing heart.  
  
It took a surprisingly long time for Abby to finally return, and all Bellamy wanted to do was leave and go home to give Octavia her medicine, but he knew he couldn’t do that without drawing way too much attention. He had to see this through.  
  
When she came back, she said apologetically, “Someone came in with a broken bone and I had to get him stabilised. Sorry to keep you waiting.”  
  
“It’s fine,” he said quickly, wanting to hurry this along. “No problem.”  
  
“Now,” she said with a nod. “About your problem. I’m sorry, but there’s just no way I can give you adult medicine for free. There’s a special way we have to sign it out, and without seeing your friend, I can’t do that.”  
  
He was ready to leave, but then she withdrew a tiny vial from her pocket, and he could see two little tablets inside, identical to the stash in his pocket. “I can, however, give you paediatric medicine,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll put it under your file. It won’t help your friend as much as an adult dose, but it should take the edge off long enough for him to feel better. How does that sound?”  
  
Bellamy felt elated and guilty all at once, but he nodded and took the vial. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, pocketing it along with the other tablets.  
  
“Next time something like this happens, bring the real patient along,” she said with a gentle smile. “We can always work something out for people who can’t afford medication.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said again, and then he ran from Medical, down the corridors of Alpha Station, and back to Factory, bursting through their doors of their quarters so hard he scared his mother.  
  
“Bellamy!” she said sharply as he entered, grabbing his upper arms in her hands and squeezing hard, giving him a shake. “What were you _thinking?”_  
  
But he was in no mood to be lectured. He could see Octavia on the bunk, still clammy and mumbling with fever, her hair plastered to her forehead. He looked his mother in the eyes and glared at her. “I was _thinking,”_ he snapped, yanking his arms out of her grip. “That she’s _my_ responsibility, so this is _my_ decision. I’m not going to let her suffer for another second. You don’t like it? I don't _care.”_  
  
Without another word, he shouldered past her roughly and went to the bunk, sliding an arm beneath Octavia’s shoulders so he could ease her into a sitting position. He coaxed two of the tablets into her mouth, cajoled her into taking a swallow of water, and then he eased her back onto the mattress and got to work wiping her down her again.  
  
Bellamy could hardly believe he had spoken to his mother like that, and her silence, her lack of reaction, made his heart beat quickly. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore, and as he bathed Octavia’s legs he stole a look at Aurora.  
  
But he was surprised to see that instead of the anger he’d expected, a tiny, satisfied smile had curled itself over his mother’s lips.


	14. 14- Octavia

“Hey, look what I brought you,” Bellamy called out eagerly as he returned home from school.  
  
Octavia was delighted whenever he stepped through that door, but delighted still when he brought her a present of any kind. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around him, and he hugged her back tightly. Then, as she waited eagerly, he knelt in front of her and held out his tablet, the one he carried every day to school and back.  
  
Her face fell a little and she frowned at him.  
  
“Go on,” he said, still smiling. “Take it.”  
  
She did, but she was still glum as she looked down at the screen. “Homework?” she guessed. Their mother was becoming more and more insistent that Bellamy teach her whatever he could from his daily lessons, rehashing his day’s teachings in a way that a five-year-old could grasp. It was no small feat, but one he took seriously, much to her dismay.  
  
But now he shook his head and laughed softly. “No, not homework. Open it.”  
  
Octavia unlocked the tablet and looked at the screen- there was a new icon that hadn’t been there the day before and she touched it, bringing up a new application- the splash screen showed eight different dancing couples.  
  
Now her disappointment turned into excitement and she looked up at Bellamy with a big smile on her face. “Dancing?”  
  
“Yeah,” he answered with a nod. “Mom says I have to go to the Unity Day junior masquerade this year, so I need to learn how to dance. I figured you might like it too.”  
  
He was right, and she hugged him, hurrying over to their table and propping the tablet up against their mother’s sewing box so they could both see the screen.  
  
“What’s the Unity Day junior masquerade?” she asked him as she scrolled through the icons for the different dances.  
  
Bellamy made a face. “It’s like a party… there’s one for teenagers, and the junior one is for kids who are eleven and twelve. It’s where you put on a mask and dance to music. It’s stupid.”  
  
“Then why does Mommy want you to do it?”  
  
He shrugged, his face reddening a little. “So I can be normal.”  
  
Octavia paused and looked at him. “How come you’re not normal?”  
  
She could see the discomfort on his face as he shrugged and said dismissively, “Because normal is stupid. Come on, O, choose one already.”  
  
Turning her attention back to the tablet, she continued to scroll through the icons and finally selected one, bringing up a video that showed a young couple- man and woman- dancing to soft, slow music. The man held out a hand and twirled the woman around and around.  
  
“Bell?” she asked softly, watching as the woman revolved on a single foot, on tiptoe. “I’m not normal… right?”  
  
He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. She watched him lean down to her level and he said, very seriously, “Normal isn’t a real thing, Octavia. Normal is just a word people use to make you feel bad.”  
  
She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, frowning in thought. “What if… what if I _want_ to be normal?” she asked, very softly, hanging her head.  
  
Bellamy curled his fingers under her chin and raised it so they could lock eyes. “Octavia, you’re better than normal. Think about it- there’s no one like you on the whole Ark- you’re special.”  
  
But all she wanted was to be like every other girl… only she didn’t even know what that _meant,_ what every other girl might even be like, because she’d never seen one. She’d never laid eyes on another child except Bellamy, another girl except her mother.  
  
Octavia felt her eyes fill with tears and she felt guilty because she knew her brother would feel bad, that he would think she was sad because he’d said the wrong thing. She shook her head and said, “Sorry, Bell.”  
  
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, tucking her head under his chin and easing her cheek against his chest. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, clear and strong, and it calmed her just a little.  
  
“Don’t be sorry, O,” he said softly in her ear. “It’s okay. I get it.”  
  
She pulled back a little and looked at his face. “You do?”  
  
“Of course I do,” he answered, nodding. “Sometimes I want to be normal too.”  
  
For some reason that made her feel a lot better than his assurances that she was special, and she smiled at him. Her eyes flickered to the screen, where the man and the woman were moving faster now, going apart for a few steps and then coming back together again. She watched for a moment and then asked, “Do normal people dance?”  
  
Bellamy grinned at her and nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
“When?” she asked, smiling back. “Where?”  
  
“All kinds of places,” he told her, fully letting her go now. “At masquerades, at other holidays, at birthdays maybe… and weddings.”  
  
“Weddings,” she repeated, sucking her lip in again and chewing it on it thoughtfully for a moment. She brightened and said, “When you get married, are you going to dance?”  
  
He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t be silly, O, I’m never going to get married.”  
  
She was surprised; in all the fairy tales, even in the darkest stories of mythology, people constantly got married. “Why not?”  
  
“Because if I got married, then I’d have to hide you extra hard, or tell someone about you, and I would never risk you getting caught,” he answered, shrugging a little.  
  
“But if you were _married,_ wouldn’t you trust each other?” she asked with a frown.  
  
But Bellamy was adamant as he shook his head. “I’m never getting married, O. It’s just going to be you and me forever- you know that.”  
  
Those words made her sad and happy at the same time, but she didn’t completely understand why. “Was Mommy married?” she asked him.  
  
One of the things she loved about their time alone together is that, unlike their mother, Bellamy didn’t avoid her questions. He almost always answered them, and even the rare times he refused to do so, he told her why. Aurora always shut off when she asked certain questions, so she had learned long ago not to.  
  
“Yeah, O, Mom was married,” he told her now. “A long time ago, to my dad.”  
  
“And then he got floated?” she asked, though she knew the answer.  
  
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “And then he got floated.”  
  
“How come?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “I was only little… littler than you. I don’t remember and Mom doesn’t like to talk about it.”  
  
Octavia glowered and said, “Mommy doesn’t like to talk about _anything.”_  
  
“Because it makes her sad,” Bellamy said gently. “She loved him and she misses him… she probably wishes he was still alive.”  
  
“But if he was, I wouldn’t be here,” Octavia said worriedly. She had only the basic understanding of her origins, but she was aware that she and Bellamy shared a mother but not a father; that she had come to be long after Bellamy’s father was dead. It scared her for some reason- the idea that with one little change in history, she could cease to be.  
  
“And that’s why I don’t mind that he’s dead,” Bellamy told her firmly, smiling at her. “Because I wouldn’t ever want anything that meant I wouldn’t have you.”  
  
That made her heart flutter with warmth and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close for a long moment, listening to the beat of his heart- a little faster now than before.  
  
After a long time she said softly, “Bellamy, you know what?”  
  
“What?” he asked, sounding content.  
  
_“I’m_ going to get married one day.”  
  
He pulled back and there was a wry smile on his face. “Oh you are, are you?”  
  
“Yes,” she said firmly, grinning up at him. “I’m going to marry you.”  
  
Bellamy laughed softly and nodded his head at her, ruffling her hair a little. “Okay, Octavia, you can marry me- you’ll be my one exception to the no marriage rule, how about that?”  
  
“And then we’ll live happily ever after like in all the stories,” she said, feeling very wise to have solved all their problems.  
  
Bellamy had turned his attention back to the screen. “I think this dance is way too hard for us,” he remarked, watching the couple twirl and spin. He changed the display, flicking through the other options, and came to a simpler option. Octavia could only read one word of the dance he’d selected, but it seemed appropriate: beginners.  
  
They watched the video a couple times through, and then Bellamy put his hand in the small of her back and pulled her close to him. She was supposed to wrap an arm around his shoulders, but she was too little for that so instead she wrapped it around his waist, laying her cheek against his stomach.  
  
Together they stepped slowly and awkwardly around their quarters, looking very little like the couple on the screen, but the music filled the room and she closed her eyes, smiling and letting Bellamy guide her movements. It felt nice, almost like being rocked, and with his warm arms around her she felt herself being lulled into a feeling of peaceful calm. She liked the music, liked dancing with him, being close to him and feeling safe and loved, like always.  
  
Octavia imagined that it really was their wedding day- she knew from stories that a wedding was like a big party, and so important that everyone from all over the world would come to attend it, and bring presents. And there was also always a big feast… seeing as she was often hungry, Octavia like that part best of all. She imagined all the pretty clothes that everyone would wear, and how she would look better than any of them. She imagined them in a lavish castle, surrounded by a giant moat, guarded by dragons. She imagined flowers twined through her hair and all over the floor. She imagined Bellamy in a white suit, and for some reason there was a sword on his hip. As for herself, she pictured glass slippers on her feet and a fiery scepter clutched in her hand.  
  
The idea that this daydream led to her and Bellamy being husband and wife was like an afterthought- mostly meaningless, because she didn't have a concept of what marriage really meant. And besides, married or not, they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Both of the Blake children had that lesson firmly ingrained in them long ago... that it would always be just the two of them, no matter what. That no one else- regardless of what either of them wanted- could ever be allowed to breach that castle wall.


	15. 15- Bellamy

“Would you just hold still for one second?” Aurora ordered with a warm smile on her face as she adjusted the collar of Bellamy’s shirt. She let out a soft sigh and stroked his hair for a moment. “My grown-up boy.”  
  
He blushed, rolling his eyes dramatically, but from next to him he heard Octavia let out a wistful sigh. She reached out a hand, smoothing her palm over the fabric of his best pants.  
  
“This is so stupid, Mom,” Bellamy grumbled, smiling down briefly at Octavia but then continuing to glower at Aurora. “I don’t even want to go to this thing.”  
  
“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do,” she told him firmly, squeezing his shoulders in her hands. “That’s part of being responsible.”  
  
“But I don't understand how going to a _dance_ is being _responsible,”_ he complained. From the moment he’d heard about the junior masquerade, he’d wanted nothing to do with it, but his mother had insisted.  
  
“Bellamy,” she warned him now. “You’re going, and that’s final.”  
  
He glared at the floor for a while as his mother fussed over his hair, but only when she declared that he was perfect did she leave him alone.  
  
“You look like a prince,” Octavia whispered, gazing up at him with total adoration.  
  
Bellamy knelt down in front of her and smiled. “So does that make you my princess?”  
  
She made a face. “No, I’m not a _princess,_ Bell, I’m a _queen.”_  
  
He let out a soft laugh and watched a blush creep over her cheeks. Playfully he ruffled her hair and said, “I’d rather stay here with you.”  
  
“But we practiced and practiced,” she protested. “You _have_ to dance. Promise you will, okay?”  
  
Bellamy let out a sigh but nodded his head. “Yeah, okay… I promise.”  
  
She brightened and hugged him, then smoothed a few strands of hair over his ear. “I’ll wait up for you,” she said solemnly. “I want to know _everything.”_  
  
He smiled gently at her and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Don’t worry, O,” he said softly. “I’ll wake you up.”  
  
“And tell me _everything?”_ she demanded.  
  
“Yeah,” he said with a brief chuckle. “And tell you everything.”  
  
Octavia threw her arms around him and he held her close. Again he was struck with the unfairness of their lives- he had no interest in this dance, yet he was being forced to go, while Octavia would have given anything to attend, and couldn't.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Bellamy got back to his feet and swallowed his fear, forcing himself to walk out the door like he wasn’t nervous at all. He really wasn’t looking forward to the fact that he was about to attend a dance- making him anxious enough- with a bunch of kids that hated him and had teased him mercilessly for the last five years.  
  
But he knew he had no choice; Aurora wanted him to go because that was _normal,_ because going lessened the chances that people would question his home life. It would shield the family from scrutiny, and therefore protect Octavia- that was all that mattered.  
  
The Unity Day committee had decorated one of the large recreation rooms and set out food on a table by the wall, but the floor space was pretty much empty to make room for all the kids. When he arrived, there were already about a dozen there, with more filtering in all the time. The music was loud and boisterous.  
  
Immediately Bellamy felt his palms start to sweat and he swallowed apprehensively, moving off to the food table and picking up the first thing he saw, though he really wasn’t hungry. He just stood there, his back to the other kids, trying to calm his nerves.  
  
“Is that _you,_ Blake?” a sudden, scathing voice came from behind him. He stiffened, and then slowly turned around. Even under the mask, he recognised one of boys from his class standing there- Corban, one of his tormenters. A couple of his friends stood beside him, each of them crossing their arms over their chests smugly. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming here,” Corban said.  
  
“Did your _Mom_ make you that stupid outfit?” another of the boys asked.  
  
“He’s not even wearing his mask,” the third one sneered, reaching out and grabbing it from Bellamy’s hand. It was true he’d forgotten to put it on, and the string caught on his finger as it was snatched from his grasp.  
  
“Give it back,” Bellamy said, through gritted teeth.  
  
“Why should he?” Corban demanded. “You’re not staying.”  
  
“Get out of my face,” Bellamy growled, clenching his fists, ready to lash out at the next word that came out of the guy’s mouth.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Corban challenged him, taking a step forward, his two friends still flanking him. “And just what are you going to do about it?”  
  
“Stop being such a dick,” a female voice came from behind them. Bellamy turned his head and felt his face flame as he recognised the owner of the voice- Everly, a girl who was a year above him in school. He had noticed her before, at school… in truth, every boy had- she was that rare combination of pretty and friendly.  
  
Corban and his friends seemed at a total loss for what to do next, confronted and challenged by the most popular girl in school. They backed off, one of them throwing Bellamy’s mask down on the floor before they slunk away.  
  
He couldn’t quite look at her as he reached down to sweep up the mask, putting it onto his face mostly to hide his blush. “Thanks.”  
  
When he finally managed enough courage to meet her gaze, she was smiling warmly at him. He had never noticed the small mole near the corner of her lips, but he had often admired her hair, long and straight like a black waterfall. Her skin, which was a shade or two darker than his own, was rich and smooth, and he could only imagine how soft it might feel to the touch. Her eyes were so dark that he almost couldn’t make out her pupils, even this close. But her best feature was the way one of her front teeth was tilted just slightly in front of the other, giving her smile a character that made it hard not to smile back. Not to mention the fact that she was twelve years old, and seemed astronomically more mature than he was, despite the fact that their age gap was only a few months.  
  
Plus she had breasts- actual breasts, unlike most of the other girls- and he had to use a lot of his energy right now not to look down at those.  
  
“I like your mask,” Everly said with a soft smile. Hers was pushed up onto her hair, but as she complimented his she pulled hers down over her eyes.  
  
“Me too,” he said, admiring the way the midnight blue complimented the chocolate of her eyes.  
  
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said to him, sounding a bit nervous herself- or was he imagining that?  
  
In spite of the fact that he knew she really was nice, he couldn’t help but grow just a little bit defensive. “Why not?”  
  
Everly seemed to sense that she might have offended him, and her smile faded just a little as she said quickly, “I didn’t mean... I just thought you’d think this whole dance thing was really lame.”  
  
Bellamy relaxed a little, a wry smile playing at his lips. “Well… I did think it was a little bit lame,” he said honestly.  
  
Her smile returned with full force as she fidgeted a little. “Yeah, I figured that’s why you never come to any of the after school stuff,” she said. “Because you’re too cool for it.”  
  
Bellamy couldn’t believe it, that she would think that. Everyone else seemed to think he was antisocial at best, a pariah at worst, but she’d pegged him as _cool?_ He tried not to like that comment as much as he did, but he couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. Everly beamed back at him with a matching smile, and Bellamy was surprised by a nervous little flutter in his heart for a completely new reason.  
  
“Do you want to dance?” she asked him suddenly.  
  
He was immediately going to refuse, but then he remembered his promise to Octavia, and he let out a brief sigh before nodding. “Okay.”  
  
“I know it’s really lame,” she said, almost apologetically.  
  
Instantly he felt guilty, embarrassed. “No, it’s not that, I just… I don’t really know how to dance. I’ve only practiced a little.”  
  
She looked immediately amused, or like she thought he was really cute. “Who did you practice with?” she asked curiously.  
  
“Uh… just me,” he said with a shrug, shifting in discomfort at having to deny Octavia so pointedly. “I mean, alone.”  
  
“It’s okay,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him gently toward the dance floor. He was embarrassed- would she notice his sweaty hand?- but Everly didn’t let go as they went all the way to the floor, finding a small space amongst all the other dancing kids. Most were alone but a few had paired off like them. Bellamy couldn’t help but notice the surprise and jealousy on many of their faces as they saw him with Everly, and he straightened just a little.  
  
The song was slow, so she looped her arms over his shoulders and clasped them at the back of his neck. He swallowed and put his own hands on her waist, surprised at how soft her body felt. They started to sway together, and Bellamy was frantically going over and over in his mind everything he and Octavia had practiced- the steps and twirls, the spins and dips- but before he could try any of them out, he realised that no one else was dancing like that. The few kids that had paired off were swaying slowly side-to-side, just like they were.  
  
“See?” she asked gently, smiling up at him. “You’re a good dancer.”  
  
He felt his cheeks flame but he nodded, smiling back at her. “So are you.”  
  
Everly pulled closer to him and laid her cheek on his shoulder, so he could feel her breath, soft and warm, against his neck as they continued to rock slowly. He was surprised how much he liked this- holding her, moving with her, their bodies so close together. His heart fluttered in a way he’d never experienced before, giving him a queasy feeling that felt strangely good.  
  
“This is nice,” she said softly, pulling her face back just a little to look at him.  
  
“Yeah,” he said back, equally quiet. He licked his lips nervously as he looked into her pretty dark eyes. He couldn’t help but notice her eyelashes, how thick and long they were, as well as the tiny dimple that appeared in her left cheek when she smiled at him. He found himself gazing at the curve of her lips for much longer than he meant to. Only when she started giggling did he realise that she’d caught him staring, and he stammered out an apology.  
  
“It’s okay,” Everly assured him, her eyes twinkling with humour. She squeezed him closer and tucked her face back into his shoulder as they continued to dance. Bellamy let out a long breath of relief, content just to hold her and enjoy the feeling of her body pressed against his.  
  
Eventually the song changed to a faster one, and the two of them broke apart, though Everly kept her hand in his. He led her back over to the food and they munched a little. She seemed at ease- at least on the surface- but he felt like a bundle of nerves.  
  
He was trying desperately to figure out why she was even hanging out with him- part of him even worried she was about to laugh at him and say it was all a cruel joke. But it really didn’t seem that way… it _seemed_ like she genuinely liked him. Even though she was a year older, from Mecha Station- definitely a step above Factory- and the most popular girl in their school… despite all that, she liked _him?_ She thought he was _cool?_  
  
He remembered once reading that girls sometimes liked boys who were different- rebellious, standoffish, mysterious… could it be that Everly thought _he_ was like that? That she actually _liked_ the fact that he was an antisocial outsider?  
  
It seemed to be true because she stayed with him for the rest of the evening, with a promise to see him at school the next day. The whole way walking back to Factory, he couldn't help but grin to himself at the fact that the prettiest girl in the whole school had spent the dance with him.  
  
When he reached his quarters, Aurora had already left for work. Octavia was asleep under the floor, but as promised Bellamy pulled the table aside and lifted the panel, looking down as her sleepy eyes opened. For a moment she seemed disoriented, then she jumped to her feet and scrambled out of the floor, helping him to replace the panel and slide the table back into place.  
  
“What happened, Bell?” she asked eagerly. “Was it magical?”  
  
He smiled at her and said, “Get into bed and I’ll tell you.”  
  
Octavia wasted no time, scrambling up the ladder and into his bunk, snuggling down under the blanket. He followed her, laying down on his back and letting her curl into him on her side, her cheek resting on his heart.  
  
He told her every little detail- including the bad stuff, the boy’s who’d teased him, just because it made the good stuff that much sweeter. She slowed him down several times, demanding that he describe certain parts in more detail, that he remembered _exactly_ what Everly had said, what he’d said, the look on her face.  
  
Of course she was particularly interested in the dancing, and here Bellamy knew his story would fall flat, so he embellished a little, making it out that he and Everly had twisted and spun around the dance floor just like he and Octavia had done in their quarters while they practiced. He didn’t see the harm in it- she would never know the difference anyway.  
  
“Did anyone dance like _me?”_ she wanted to know, barely able to contain her enthusiasm as she wriggled against him to dispel her pent-up excitement. When they practiced dancing, she was very serious about preparing him, and they followed the videos on his tablet as closely as possible… but when she was left to her own devices- just Octavia in a room with music- she had a style all her own.  
  
Once the music got going, she would skip and shudder and jump and spin, throwing her arms way out to the sides and turning around and around, faster and faster, until she fell over in a heap of subdued laughter.  
  
He loved to watch her do it, because as her body moved and swayed and spun, she looked like freedom itself- what he dreamed she could be.  
  
“Bell?” she asked, poking him gently in the ribs to pull his attention back. “Did they? Did anyone dance like me?”  
  
“No way,” he answered, shaking his head, smiling lovingly at her. No matter how intriguing a girl like Everly might be, or how she had made him feel, right here in this moment he wouldn’t go anywhere, even with her, if it meant leaving Octavia behind. Firmly he added, “There’s no one in the whole world like you, O.”  
  
She grinned at him, and he grinned back. Both of them knew it was true.


	16. 16- Octavia

“Hold the fabric like this, see?” Aurora showed her on a bit of scrap. “Make the two ends into a fold and then sew down that seam, it’ll hold longer.”  
  
Concentrating deeply, Octavia carefully folded the two ragged edges down until they made a new edge- just one, smooth and as straight as her little fingers could manage. She picked up her needle and started laying in her seam- white thread against the black fabric, for practice.  
  
After three stitches, her mother stopped her and pointed at the second one. “See how this one’s wider than the others? They need to be the same, and not wobbly, or it won’t look nice and they won’t pay. Take it out and start again.”  
  
Octavia let out a breath and did as she was told, pulling the string from the needle and guiding it back from the fabric until she was left with just her little knot. She rethreaded the needle and started again, trying to make the stitches as even as possible.  
  
Aurora nodded her head and said, “Better.”  
  
She smiled hard down at the table to stop herself from wiggling because a compliment- _any_ compliment- from her mother was a precious thing. She watched as Aurora laid down swift, perfectly proportioned stitches in a line that was absolutely straight.  
  
“Mommy?” she asked tentatively.  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“Did you learn to sew when you were my age?”  
  
Aurora smiled, which meant she was in the mood to tolerate questions- not always an easy feat. She nodded and said, “Yes, about your age… maybe a little older, but I thought I’d start with you early because you’re so clever.”  
  
Another compliment! Octavia grinned and asked her, “Did your mommy teach you?”  
  
“No, actually, it was my father,” she said. “My mother manufactured the fabrics, that’s how they met.”  
  
Octavia thought about all that, imagined her unknown grandparents meeting over the rolls and rolls of coloured fabric, like a picture she’d seen. She imagined her grandmother smiling at him, imagining her grandfather blushing as he smiled back.  
  
“Where are they now, Mommy?”  
  
“Dead,” Aurora said, and her voice sounded like Octavia was getting into dangerous territory, so she changed the subject.  
  
“When you were little, you didn’t have a brother right?” She knew that was true but she just had to make sure, because it seemed so strange- she couldn’t even begin to imagine life without a brother.  
  
His mother’s body relaxed and she smiled. “No, I didn’t have a brother. You’re really lucky. And Bellamy is lucky too, to have a sister. In fact, nobody on the whole Ark has a brother or a sister.”  
  
“But maybe they do?” Octavia asked. “And we don’t know about it because they’re under the floor like me?”  
  
Aurora paused and looked at her. Octavia couldn’t help but think of how her eyes were Bellamy’s eyes, like she made a copy of her eyes and put them in his head- how did that happen? And where did Octavia’s eyes come from? Maybe when her mother made the second copy, it accidentally turned blue.  
  
“As far as we know, you’re the only one,” she allowed. “But you’re right, there might be others.”  
  
Octavia imagined that- a whole bunch of little boys and girls who could never go out, who had to hide under the floor when their families were gone. Or what if they didn’t even know about the floor, what if they didn’t cut a hole in it like her mother had, where would they hide then? In the laundry basket, like she used to? What if one day there was an inspection and all the laundry was clean? They’d get caught. And then what? Their parents would be floated, and they would get taken away, and their brother and sister would grow up all alone. It was so sad; it made her want to cry. She imagined Bellamy all alone, no one to play with.  
  
“Mommy, I don’t want Bellamy to be all alone,” she said suddenly, the emotion pouring into her voice as her vision went fuzzy and her lip trembled. Tears splashed down on her bit of practice fabric with the wobbly stitches.  
  
“That’s not going to happen,” her mother said firmly. She opened her arms and Octavia climbed into them, burying herself in Aurora’s lap and embrace, crying into her chest.  
  
“Mommy, if Bellamy was alone, he’d be so sad from missing us,” Octavia wailed, not at all worried about the far worse consequences of this scenario- her mother dead and her locked up- but just thinking of her poor brother, all by himself in this room.  
  
“Octavia, stop it,” Aurora said, an edge to her voice. “That’s not going to happen, why are you even thinking about it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she admitted, trying to calm down. “Because of all the other kids and if their mommies didn’t open the floor then they got caught and their brothers and sisters are too sad.”  
  
“What?” Her mother pushed her back a bit so she could look at her, even though all Octavia wanted was to stay close. “What are you talking about? No one’s even been arrested for having a second child since before your brother was born.”  
  
“Really?” she asked, brightening a little, sniffing away the last of her tears.  
  
Aurora looked like a mixture of impatient and annoyed as she said, “Really. And that’s not going to happen to us either.”  
  
“What about when I’m big?” Octavia asked carefully. “Then what happens?”  
  
“You know what happens.” Her mother eased her off her lap until she was standing on the floor, and then Aurora reached over and patted her chair again.  
  
Reluctantly Octavia sat and returned to her sewing, but she couldn't help it, sometimes she just had to ask questions. “Mommy, what will happen when I’m big?”  
  
Aurora let out a breath of frustration and set down her own piece, staring hard at Octavia in a way that made her want to shrink away and be small. But she did answer her, “Bellamy will be a guard by then, and that will keep the two of you safe. It won’t have to be like this.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like me working so hard to make sure you don’t get found,” her mother explained, but there was still that edge of impatience to her voice.  
  
“So me and Bellamy won’t have to work hard, and we’ll live happily ever after in big quarters with a window and me in my own bed?” she asked carefully, wanting to be absolutely sure.  
  
“Octavia, _enough!”_ Aurora snapped, and this time she’d definitely gone too far.  
  
They sewed in silence for an hour. Octavia even tested her mother, making a few stitches extra wide, and one almost sideways, angling the wobbly seam so Aurora couldn’t help but notice it. But her mother said nothing. Octavia hated this- being really alone was better than being with someone and still feeling alone.  
  
Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and she grabbed the little tool that undid bad sewing and started ripping the stitches out of her fabric in little bursts.  
  
“What are you doing?” her mother demanded, grabbing the tool of her hand.  
  
“It’s all bad!” Octavia snapped, forceful but quiet. “It’s all wobbly and some are too big. I have to take it all out and start again or else the people won’t pay and then you’ll have to work too hard.” Her lip was trembling again.  
  
“What has gotten _into_ you?” her mother asked, her voice full of exasperation. “No one’s going to _buy_ that, it’s just for practice.”  
  
Octavia knew that she should stop this, that she was only making things worse, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You didn’t even notice. It was all wrong and you didn’t even notice.”  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, Aurora let it out slowly and closed her eyes- Bellamy’s eyes, Octavia reminded herself- before finally she seemed to calm a little. “I’m sorry I wasn’t watching, I was thinking about something else.”  
  
Sniffling a little, Octavia couldn’t bear to look at her, she just stared at the table and whispered, “You made me disappear.”  
  
“What?” Aurora reached out and took her chin in her hand, turning her face toward her. But she couldn't make her copied wrong blue eyes look at her, and Octavia kept them stubbornly on the table. “What did you say?”  
  
“You made me disappear,” Octavia repeated, louder this time, but still quiet- always quiet, in case the neighbours’ noses got too big and they told on them. Octavia didn’t really understand why bigger noses made you tell.  
  
“I don’t know what you mean,” her mother said, and something about her voice- the quietness, the tenderness of it- made Octavia finally look at her. Aurora’s eyes were soft now, and that made Octavia braver.  
  
“When you were thinking about something else, you made me disappear.”  
  
“That’s silly,” Aurora said to her, shaking her head. “Just because someone doesn’t notice you doesn’t mean you disappear.”  
  
Octavia felt her eyes filling again but she refused to cry. “Yes it does,” she insisted. “It does because if you and Bellamy don’t see me then I’m not real.”  
  
Aurora opened her mouth and it was obvious from her face that she was going to disagree again, but suddenly she stopped and said nothing. She just pulled her daughter into her arms and held her close, so tight that Octavia thought she might stop breathing, but she didn’t care, she just needed the hug.  
  
Afterward, her mother sat quietly at the table for a long time. They both picked up their sewing again, and this time Octavia tried harder to make her seam better, not throwing a fit anymore and making the stitches too big or sideways.  
  
Then, finally, Aurora said, “Octavia, I want you to listen to me, okay? This is really important.”  
  
She set down her fabric and looked up at her mother. Aurora’s eyes were full of tears, something she’d rarely seen. She spoke a bit slowly, as if thinking about every word before saying it, “When I decided to have you, it was because I loved you. I didn’t know how hard it was going to be… I mean, not _really._ Neither did your brother. But we do the best we can. You know that, right?”  
  
Octavia didn’t answer right away, thinking about her words like her mother had, thinking about what to say. They did the best they could- did she know that? Did she think that was right?  
  
She thought about brother, how he would rush home from school, play with her, how sometimes she could see he was tired but she still insisted on just one more story, one more game, how he hardly ever said no.  
  
She thought about her mother, how she worked most of the day and night, how when she got home she was too tired to play, and other than days like this when there was no work, how she rarely had the energy to do very much at all. She thought about how scared she was when inspectors came, how she always thought about everything way before it happened, how she warned Bellamy about taking care of his sister, warned Octavia to be careful always.  
  
Looking at her mother now, she could see the dark circles under her eyes and the worry under her expression, the tiredness that was always just beneath the surface of everything she did and said. Octavia realised for the first time that Aurora never looked like she was having any fun, and even when she looked happy, it was quick- like a blink. Had Octavia done that? If her mother had known what life was going to be like, would she have had her daughter at all?  
  
“If you didn’t have me, would you be a different mommy?” Octavia couldn’t help but ask her. “If you just had Bellamy and no me at all, then what?”  
  
Aurora shook her head and she put her hands on Octavia’s cheeks. “If I didn’t have you- _both_ of you- I wouldn’t know how to live. I would be the saddest woman in the universe, Octavia, because I love you and your brother more than anything.” She let go of her daughter’s face and stood up to make dinner.  
  
But Octavia was dissatisfied. Of _course_ her mother would be sad if Octavia went away _now,_ but what about _before?_ She knew there was a time- six whole years- that Bellamy had been alive when Octavia wasn’t. It was weird, but true. And she knew there was a time- she wasn’t sure how many whole years- that Bellamy hadn’t been alive but Aurora still was. When she wasn’t a mommy at all.  
  
Her mother had said she would be the saddest woman in the universe if Octavia went away. And she said that she didn’t know how hard it would be to have a second baby. So what if Octavia had never been at all? What if it had just been Aurora and Bellamy? Could she have been the _happiest_ woman in the universe?  
  
Octavia didn’t know. But she also knew, intuitively, that no matter how much she asked, Aurora would always find a way to avoid answering that question.


	17. 17- Bellamy

“Bellamy, you know what?” Octavia asked eagerly, pulling on his sleeve at dinner.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m exactly half your age today.”  
  
He gave her a wry smile and said, “Don’t you mean I’m exactly double your age today? It is _my_ birthday.”  
  
“One more year and you’ll be a teenager,” Aurora sighed. “Where does the time go?”  
  
Bellamy let out a groan and answered, “Don’t worry, Mom, it’s just another year,” but he could see the emotion on her face and he didn’t know how to address it. So instead he smiled at his sister and said, “You know what, Octavia? I was your age when you were born.”  
  
She grinned at him. “Does that mean Mommy’s going to have another baby now?”  
  
Aurora gave her a pained expression that she forced into a smile as she said, “No, my baby days are over. The two of you are perfect, I don’t need any more.”  
  
Over Octavia’s head, Bellamy exchanged a glance with his mother, and everything was in that look- it had been an innocent question, but Octavia had no idea what she was really asking.  
  
Now his sister sighed and said, “I want a little brother or sister. _Please?”_  
  
Bellamy gazed at her for a moment, saw the sincerity in her little face. To her, requesting a little brother or sister was nothing. To any other child on the Ark, it would be like requesting a pet unicorn- but to Octavia, it was normal. She had no idea what was true- that she already had one, out there with Roman. Bellamy didn't even know which, but he also knew that blood wasn't the same as family.  
  
Aurora stood up and said, “I have a little surprise for you, Bellamy.” She walked over to her sewing basket and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper, which she placed on the table in front of him with a soft smile, her fingers briefly running through his hair before she sat down again.  
  
Instantly he was flushed with a mix of excitement and guilt as he looked at the box, and then his gaze lifted to his mother as he said, “I hope it wasn’t expensive.”  
  
“Not at all,” she assured him, with a soft, loving smile. “I made it myself. Go on, Bellamy, open it.”  
  
He did, tearing off the wrapping and then opening up the box. Inside was what looked like a folded bit of black fabric- he pulled it out and let it unfurl in his hands. It looked like a simple pair of black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt, but then he saw the reflective buckles on the shoulders and the vest and he realised what he was looking at. He turned the outfit around, and he could see that his mother had even replicated the triquetra symbol of the guard, surrounded by the twelve stars that represented the twelve stations of the Ark.  
  
“There were a few discard uniforms too damaged to repair,” Aurora told him with obvious excitement. “So I altered them so they’d fit you… with a little room to grow. Won’t that be fun?”  
  
Bellamy wasn’t quite sure how he felt, but he smiled at her and said, “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.” He kept looking at the symbol on the back of the uniform, feeling strange about wearing it when he wasn’t even a cadet yet, let alone a guard.  
  
“I know they don’t give out that patch until you're admitted to the program,” she said, seeming to read his mind. “But this one was going to go to waste anyway, and I thought having it would help keep you focused. It’s only three years until the entrance exam.”  
  
He nodded, turned his lips up into a smile and said, “I know.”  
  
“I helped with some of the stitches,” Octavia told him. “See?” She touched a seam that carried her slightly wobbly trademark, along the left sleeve.  
  
Bellamy smiled warmly at her and said, “Thanks, O.”  
  
“Are the kids at school going to give you presents tomorrow?” she asked him, then she grinned and whispered loudly, “Is _Everly_ going to give you a present?”  
  
He blushed and rolled his eyes at her, but then he caught the tight expression that came over his mother’s face and he said to Octavia, “What about you, didn’t you get me anything?”  
  
“Of course, Bell!” she exclaimed, as if he’d suddenly reminded her. She slid off her chair and ran to her mother’s bunk.  
  
Bellamy wished he could get rid of the blush in his cheeks, but he could feel how hot they were, and his mother’s scrutiny only made them hotter. He was also angry- _she’d_ been the one who wanted him to be normal… wasn’t it normal to have a crush? He couldn’t help but smile a little, thinking of Everly’s pretty lips, her hair, the way she’d felt in his arms.  
  
Octavia had lifted the thin mattress and pulled out a large piece of paper that had been folded up a few times. She returned to the table, climbed up onto her chair, and handed it to him, her face flushed with obvious pride.  
  
Bellamy shook away all thoughts of Everly and focused on his sister, spreading the piece of paper out on the table and unfolding it until it was flat, and as he looked at it a huge smile overtook his face.  
  
With painstaking detail and loving care, Octavia had drawn a star chart of all the constellations she knew. They were just in dot form, with wiggly lines- attempting to be straight- joining together the familiar pictures of the various constellations. “Wow,” he said sincerely.  
  
“Look, Bell,” she whispered shyly, pointing to one of her favourite ones- because she liked the story attached to it. “It’s the seven sisters.”  
  
“Octavia,” he said, drawing her eyes to his. “I love it.”  
  
She beamed. “Really?”  
  
“Really,” he told her, and hugged her tight. She climbed into his lap and spent the next hour pointing out every single constellation she had drawn, telling him the stories she knew for each one, and begging for stories associated with others.  
  
“I really like it,” he told her softly, when she’d finally grown quiet and sleepy. “Thanks, O.” She had drawn constellations from many different cultures, some of which blatantly contradicted one another, but that was something he loved about her- to Octavia, it was all the same, all equally valid. All equally unknown.  
  
With a soft smile she nuzzled into his neck and said, “You’re welcome.”  
  
“Time for bed I think,” he said, and though she shook her head she was clearly dozy, her head a bit too wobbly on her neck. He stood up, holding her against him, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to his mother’s bunk and laid her down, covering her with the blankets.  
  
“Tell me a story?” she asked softly, her eyes closing heavily.  
  
“Once there was a little girl named Octavia,” he whispered, stroking her hair gently with his palm. “She loved her brother so much, she painted the sky for him. And her brother was so happy about it, he promised to give her the world.”  
  
A smile spread over her lips though her eyes were closed, and when she spoke it was a quiet, half-asleep murmur, “You’re going to give me the world, Bell?”  
  
He tucked the blankets closer around her and said, “Of course I am.” He waited until she was asleep, and then he went back to the table and sat down.  
  
Aurora’s voice was quiet so as not to wake Octavia. “Bellamy-”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about that girl,” he said immediately. “She doesn’t matter anyway, it’s fine.” The truth was, he thought about Everly daily.  
  
His mother seemed pained, but she said nothing for a long time. Finally she asked him, “You don’t like the uniform?”  
  
Instantly he felt guilty that she’d figured that out, but he shook his head, looking up at her. “No, I do. I like it, I just didn’t expect it.”  
  
“Bellamy…” She trailed off, as though she wanted to say something but she didn’t quite know how. He waited, but she never finished that sentence, she just picked up Octavia’s star chart and started to roll it up. “I’ll put this in the hole.”  
  
“Can’t I put it up in my bunk?” he protested, having wanted to post it on the wall in his alcove so he could look at it while he tried to fall asleep. He imagined tucking Octavia into his side and pointing out the constellations she’d drawn with her own hand, using them to tell the stories she knew well, and also make up new ones.  
  
Aurora frowned and set the paper down in front of him, tapping one corner with her finger. He looked and saw that Octavia had written a ‘to’ and ‘from’ with their names, as well as lots of x’s and o’s.  
  
He glowered at his mother for a moment. “That could be anyone.”  
  
“It could be, but it’s not- it’s your sister, and if anyone ever saw this, who knows what could happen?”  
  
_“I_ know,” he snapped, suddenly extremely irritated. “Okay? I _know_ what could happen. You’ve told us a thousand times.”  
  
Aurora frowned at him, clearly unimpressed with his backtalk. When she spoke there was an edge to her words. “Rip that part off it you want to put it up.”  
  
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t rip off the part Octavia had signed, the careful printing of each little x and o, the love that went into it. He snatched the paper from his mother, rolled it up, then stood and grabbed the table, shoving it to one side. Aurora’s body stiffened as the table leg narrowly missed slamming into her knee, and he could feel her disapproval as she watched him pull up the floor panel long enough to toss the paper inside.  
  
“There,” he said, glowering at it. “It’s hidden away, just like everything.”  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” she demanded. Both their voices were still low, but the anger was clearly apparent in hers. “It’s your birthday, Bellamy. You should be happy.”  
  
But all he could think of was Octavia and her life in this tiny room, of Everly and the fact that his future was all planned out, and didn’t include anyone else. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down. “How is this going to end, Mom?” he couldn’t help but ask.  
  
Tightly she said, “You know the answer to that. You become a guard.”  
  
“Yeah, I know that,” he said impatiently. “But what about _after?”_  
  
Aurora narrowed her eyes at him for a just a moment and said, “What about it?”  
  
Bellamy shook his head. “Nevermind.” He stood up, gritting his teeth. “You don’t understand _anything.”_  
  
“Mind yourself, Bellamy Blake,” she warned him.  
  
He let out a heavy breath, feeling his temper flare again but forcing himself to shove it all down. “Sorry.”  
  
She stood up and closed the distance between them, and he was sure he was in for a lecture, but instead she wrapped her arms around him. He was surprised how much he’d needed that, and he felt a lump rise in his throat as he hugged her back.  
  
“My brave boy,” she said gently. “I know this isn’t always easy… but you can’t afford to be weak. Neither of us can. There’s a child in this room who is counting on us for every single thing that she needs, and we _can’t_ let her down.”  
  
Bellamy pulled in a long breath and said nothing, his mind whirring. Was that true? Was he being weak? Was that what it meant to be scared, to be dissatisfied with his life sometimes, to want more? To want something with Everly, or _anyone,_ to have a future that included love? Was that weakness?  
  
He was confused, but he knew his mother was right about one thing- Octavia _was_ depending on both of them, him especially. She was his responsibility, and he had to take care of her- and he _wanted_ to. But wasn’t he also a child? Didn’t he also have needs, and whose responsibility was it to take care of his needs if not his mother? Did Octavia’s birth mean that he could never be a child again? And if so, then _was_ it weak to feel the things that he did sometimes? Was he a bad person to feel like he couldn’t always handle everything that had been heaped onto his shoulders for the last six years?  
  
Half his life had gone by like this now, and that milestone wasn’t lost on him. In six more years, he would be an adult- able to be floated for protecting Octavia just as his mother was eligible for that punishment now, if they got caught. But unlike his mother, he hadn’t had a choice.  
  
Octavia was six years old now, and when he looked at her, he could hardly believe how young she was. So naïve, so full of wonder and innocence, so carefree and almost totally unaware of the heavy burdens that he and his mother carried.  
  
And yet he had been her age when all this started.  
  
He had been a six-year-old, such a young child, as young as Octavia was now. When he looked at her, there was no way he could imagine placing a baby in her arms and expecting her to care for it, to be a parent to it, to protect it with her little life. It was way too much to ask of a child- almost absurd. Had he really ever been that young?  
  
Now, six years later, he was turning twelve. Next year, he’d be a teenager. Three years after that, a cadet. A few more years, a guard. But _then_ what?  
  
He suddenly stepped back from his mother’s arms, right at the moment that he realised something important- he was too old for hugs now. He knew that, although he might have still been six years away from legal adulthood, his childhood had already ended long ago.  
  
Aurora smiled at him and nodded her head in obvious satisfaction. “All better?”  
  
Bellamy returned the nod and the smile, though his were far less sincere. His voice much stronger now, no trace of weakness, he told her, “Yeah. All better.”


	18. 18- Octavia

It was one of those long mornings of being alone- Bellamy at school, her mother at work. Octavia was bored, but more than that she was lonely. She’d already played with her few toys more than once, she’d run around the room until she fell over, and curled up next to the soft ottoman to trace the patterns in the fabric. She’d eaten all the food that had been put out for her, had two naps, one in each bunk, and then made the beds, and pushed the table and chairs to the wall to see if she was big enough to open the floor by herself- not yet. At least she didn’t have to be inside, because her mother knew there was an inspection tomorrow so there definitely wasn’t going to be one today.  
  
She checked her clock and knew that Bellamy still wasn’t going to be home for hours. She could read this one properly now, and of course she understood the numbers of the one in the wall too, but she still preferred that little clock with the wedges of colours, and she still got an excited fluttery feeling in her stomach when the little hand neared the blue section that meant he’d be home soon.  
  
Boredom was a hard monster to deal with, harder to slay even than fear, because while fear crept up on her and made her go ice cold and shaky, boredom laid itself long and lazy over her body like an itchy blanket, bothering her the whole day, making time drag and everything uncomfortable.  
  
Sometimes when she was alone like this she just talked to he mother or Bellamy even though they weren’t there, and sometimes she talked about them to remind herself that even though she couldn't see them, they still existed.  
  
She looked at the clock that read 1:43 and she said quietly to herself, “Bellamy’s had his lunch so his belly is full, he’s learning math or else science, and sitting in the big room with all the desks. The teacher’s asking him a question and he knows the answer because we did his homework yesterday.”  
  
Octavia didn’t know if that was precisely true, but it was true enough.  
  
Pulling out her own notebook, she sat at the table and practiced her numbers, but she didn’t like doing it alone with no one there to check her work or tell her if she was doing a good job.  
  
Intentionally, she drew a 5 backwards and waited, but nobody said anything because nobody saw. She frowned at the paper and drew another one, also backwards, but darker because now she felt angry.  
  
She looked at the clock. 1:44. Only one minute but it seemed like forever.  
  
She felt her anger surge and she grabbed the notebook, hurling it toward the front door. It was far away but the book hit it squarely, falling to the floor and tearing a page on the way down as it hit the handle.  
  
Octavia stood up and stared at it for a moment. She was still angry but it had felt good to throw something. So she went to her mother’s bunk and grabbed the pillow, hurling it in the same direction as the notebook. It hit the door with a soft thud and fell down.  
  
She could barely believe her own strength, that she could throw that far or that hard. Next she grabbed the blankets, though they were harder to throw- if she just threw it without planning, it didn’t go far at all, so when she grabbed her brother’s down she balled it up first, so it made it to the door. Once all the bedding was in a heap in front of the door, she grabbed the corner of her mother’s mattress and pulled it off the bed. This one she couldn’t really throw because she could only keep half of it off the floor at one time. It wasn’t heavy because it was made of foam but it was long and awkward. Octavia dragged it over instead, pushing her foot down onto it until it squished into the lower area of the floor, in front of the door. She did the same with Bellamy’s mattress.  
  
It was surprising how much bigger the room felt with those mattresses gone, and all the bedding. When Octavia climbed the ladder and sat on the hard metal of Bellamy’s bunk, the space felt a lot roomier. She craved that- more space, more room to move and breathe.  
  
Now Octavia picked up the soft ottoman that was sometimes a seat and she threw it as hard as she could at the door. The sound it made was satisfying- a heavy thump- as it hit the door and slid down onto the heap of bedding. The table chairs went next and then- with some difficulty- the table. She went into the bathroom and pulled out all their things- the clothes in their laundry basket, then the basket itself, and then the soaps and the toothbrushes that belonged to Bellamy and Aurora, since hers was in the hole. The last thing she did was place her toys carefully around the edge of the stack, so none of them would get hurt.  
  
Octavia looked over her handiwork- all their furniture and belongings were now squeezed into the small space between the door and the step. Now _they_ would have to see how it felt to be in a tiny little spot, and not be able to move around much. As for Octavia, she now had the whole higher level of their floor to herself, absolutely empty.  
  
She wished she had Bellamy’s tablet so she could play music, but he had it at school to help him learn, and so he’d find out what to teach her when he got back.  
  
So instead she made her own music, humming under her breath as she danced around the room, spinning her body around and around, arms out, never hitting anything because suddenly the room had become so big. She danced and spun for so long that she felt exhausted, and so she backed up against the wall and took a running leap towards the pile of fabrics at the front door, jumping at the last second to land on the heap of blankets and pillows and mattresses. She laughed quietly, then did it ten more times.  
  
Now she was really tired. Octavia lay down on the mattress and stared at the metal ceiling, turning her head slowly from one side to the other to watch how the light played on the steel. She felt her eyelids growing heavy and she let them close, curling into herself to sleep on the pile of softness- her third nap today.  
  
She woke to the feeling of being jostled, almost gently at first and then harder, more insistently. Octavia opened her eyes to see what was going on, but her heart froze as she saw the door open just a crack, the person on the other side obviously trying to open it more, shoving the door over and over, making her pile of bedding shake and shudder.  
  
Octavia scrambled off and ran for the floor panel, putting her fingers into the hole and trying with every bit of strength to lift it up, but she couldn’t. She started crying but it was just tears running down her cheeks, no sound, as she thought about all the places she could hide and how there weren’t any left. It was just her- alone and exposed.  
  
The door kept getting shoved, and it opened a tiny bit more each time. Octavia ran into the bathroom and then into the shower, sitting in the corner and closing the doors behind her and curling her arms around herself, burying her face in her knees. She knew she would be easy to find like this, but there was nowhere else she could go. Her knees were soon soaked with her tears, but she was still silent, just in case.  
  
She heard the door being shoved a few more times, and then footsteps, and she knew it was all over. Now her mother would be floated, she would be taken away, and Bellamy would grow up all alone and sad forever.  
  
The door to the bathroom opened. Octavia peed her pants in terror.  
  
Then the shower door. “Octavia!”  
  
She could hardly believe it, it was _Bellamy-_ Bellamy’s voice and then his arms around her and she was grabbing onto him, clinging to him, burying her hands in the hair at the back of his neck and holding on so tight. She could hardly believe it was him but it was, he was here and she wasn’t caught and no one was getting floated or taken away or growing up alone.  
  
“I moved everything so I could have more space and dance around but then there was a monster at the door and I got scared but it was _you,_ Bell, it was only _you!”_ she sobbed and sobbed. “I thought everything bad was going to happen, I thought I was going to go away and Mommy would get floated and you’d come home and there’d be nobody here with you _ever again!”_  
  
“It’s okay, shshsh, it’s okay,” he soothed her, rubbing her back, holding her close. “It’s okay, Octavia, none of that is going to happen, I promise, shshsh.”  
  
She hard a hard time calming down but she managed to a little.  
  
Bellamy seemed equally terrified. He finally let her go a little though he held onto her hand tightly when she grabbed his. She could see the fear in his eyes as he said, “I thought someone came while I was at school and you were trying to keep them out… I was scared someone got in and found you.”  
  
She shook her head and hugged him again. “I’m sorry, Bell.”  
  
“It’s okay,” he soothed her again, sounding like he was trying to calm himself down just as much as her. His voice shook dangerously, then broke as he said again, “It’s okay, shshsh.”  
  
Finally they let each other go fully and she lowered her eyes in shame and whispered, “Bell, I peed.”  
  
“I know but it’s okay, it doesn’t matter,” he assured her. “As long as you’re okay. Come on, you can have a shower and I’ll put everything away.”  
  
“Stay here,” she said, her lip trembling all over again, clinging to him. “Don’t leave.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll stay, I promise.”  
  
He helped her take off her clothes and got her new ones, then she stepped under the water, wishing this was a warm water day so it could take away her trembling, help her warm her up from the outside in and make her brave again.

“Bellamy,” she said as he poured shampoo into his palm and rubbed it into her hair with his fingers.  
  
“What?”  
  
But she hadn’t had a follow up to that; she’d just needed to say his name, to reassure herself that he definitely _was_ there. He was still looking at her expectantly so she said, “I’m not as scared anymore.”  
  
He nodded. “Good, rinse.”  
  
Octavia squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head back into the water, feeling Bellamy’s fingers help get the shampoo out of her hair, but none got in her eyes and that was the main thing. He worked the conditioner into her hair and while they waited for it to soak in he handed her a cloth and let her wash everywhere else, turning his face away while she did- something he’d never done before.  
  
“Am I ugly because I peed?” she asked him.  
  
He seemed shocked. “What? No way, of course not.”  
  
“Then why are you looking over there?”  
  
She watched him blush but didn’t know why and he shook his head. “Just giving you privacy.”  
  
Octavia giggled. “There’s no such thing, we live in one room.” Two, if they counted the bathroom.  
  
He shrugged a little and said, “Rinse,” and again her eyes were closed and her head was back and his fingers helped her hair get clean but still silky.  
  
Afterward, she stepped out onto a towel on the floor and Bellamy took a clean one and dried her head to toe. He played her favourite game, pretending the corner of the towel was a car and she had to say ‘Stop’ and ‘Go’ while he ran it over her skin, and every time he didn’t stop when she said so she got to say ‘beep beep’ and punch him. But he always stopped.  
  
“You know what, Octavia?” he asked softly after she’d turned around and he was drying her back.  
  
“What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. He looked serious.  
  
“Nobody’s ever allowed to touch your body unless you say so. They’re not allowed to look at it either.”  
  
That was confusing. “Why not?”  
  
“Because it’s yours and it’s private… well, parts of it are. We’re learning about that at school.”  
  
“Which parts are private?” she asked curiously.  
  
He let out a breath, still blushing, and wrapped the towel around her, turning her back to face him. He was on his knees so she was just a little bit taller than him. “I’m just saying, it’s _yours,_ Octavia. So don’t let anybody else ever touch you unless you want them to, okay?”  
  
“Like when you wash my hair and dry me off?” she guessed.  
  
Bellamy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah... I guess it’s different with family. I’m talking about other people.”  
  
She looked at him quizzically. “What other people?”  
  
He stared at her for a moment, but before he could say anything else, there was the sudden sound of the door opening, then being shoved and pushed like before.  
  
“Get dressed,” he said quickly, running out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him. There was a lot of scuffling in the other room as Octavia hurriedly pulled on her clean clothes, and then she ran out into the main room too.  
  
Bellamy had obviously pulled everything up from the lower floor, and their mother was standing there, hands on her hips. “Just what on Earth is going on?” she demanded, and Octavia tried not to giggle because it was a funny expression- they weren’t on Earth at all, nobody was except dead things full of radiation.  
  
“Nothing, sorry,” Bellamy said quickly, starting to put things back in their proper places.  
  
Somehow this told Aurora exactly who’d done it, and her eyes narrowed as she turned on her daughter. “Why?”  
  
Octavia looked at the floor and whispered, “I wanted to dance.”  
  
“So help me God, Octavia,” she said, stalking over to her and grabbing her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake. “You can dance whenever you want, but that doesn’t mean you block the door so your brother and I can’t get inside!” Her voice was a hiss, but it was really angry. Then she frowned. “Why are you wet?”  
  
“I peed and had a shower,” Octavia whispered, ashamed all over again. Her eyes were full of tears so the metal floor looked blurry. She mumbled an apology, but Aurora wasn't satisfied.  
  
She persisted, “Do you know how scared I was when I got home and couldn’t open the door? I’m sure Bellamy was too!”  
  
“Me too, I was scared,” Octavia answered desperately. “That’s why I peed. I was so scared, Mommy, I thought someone was going to get me.”  
  
“But this is _your_ fault!” Aurora cried. _“You_ did this. What were you _thinking?”_  
  
“Mom!” Bellamy yelled suddenly, not even trying to be quiet. He was standing near the bunks, the bottom one half made, but he was angry as he snapped, “Obviously she wasn’t _thinking,_ she was just trying to have some fun after we left her alone all day.”  
  
Aurora let her daughter go and advanced on her son instead. Octavia watched her index finger rise into his face, which seemed to only make him angrier as she spat, “Don’t encourage her.”  
  
He shoved her hand away and said, “Well what the hell is she _supposed_ to do all day? She’s getting bigger and this room is staying exactly the same, how’s she supposed to live her life?”  
  
Octavia didn’t think she’d ever seen her mother so mad as she growled, “Not like _this._ Not giving us both heart attacks.” She turned back to her daughter and added, “Plus, how much noise did you make when you moved all the furniture around? Did you think about _that?_ Our neighbours know me and Bellamy wouldn’t be home, so what do you think _they_ thought?”  
  
It was hard to imagine, what strangers she’d never met might think, but she tried. Only it didn’t seem like Aurora really wanted to know because immediately she stalked over, grabbed Octavia by the arm, and hauled her towards the hole. “Lift up the panel, Bellamy.”  
  
“No way,” he answered, his voice harsh and dark.  
  
For a moment all three of them were shocked, but then Aurora ignored him and leaned down to pull up the panel herself. “Get in,” she snapped to her daughter.  
  
Immediately Octavia panicked. Get in the floor when Aurora and Bellamy were both home, and when there was no inspection? Be alone more, when she didn’t have to be? “No, Mommy, please, I’m sorry, I don’t want to go in the floor, I want to stay with you.” She clung to her mother and begged her, “Please, I’ll be better, I won’t move the furniture ever again, I promise.”  
  
“Get. In,” Aurora bit out, shoving her away.  
  
“But I promise, I _promise,”_ Octavia sobbed, crying hard now, wanting her mother to hold her, wanting to be forgiven.  
  
“That doesn’t _mean_ anything,” her mother said, which was a shock in and of itself- promises _always_ meant something, like Bellamy’s promise to never let anything bad happen to her.  
  
“Mom,” Bellamy said now, his voice still dark. “Come on-”  
  
“Don’t you start or I’ll have you run laps around the station,” Aurora snarled. “I am _not_ kidding.”  
  
It was her love for her brother and not wanting him to get in trouble that finally made Octavia climb, sobbing, into the hole. The panel was replaced and she laid there shivering, not sure how much was from her sadness and how much from the cold of her wet head on the metal, the inside of the floor being a lot chillier.  
  
“I’m going for a walk,” she heard her mother say angrily to Bellamy. “If this room isn’t _exactly_ how it’s supposed to be when I get back…” She trailed off, and somehow her not finishing that sentence was scarier than if she had actually said what would happen. Octavia heard her footsteps go to the door, then pause as she added, “And don’t you _dare_ let your sister out of that floor.” Her voice was quiet but scary at the same time.  
  
The door opened and closed, and Octavia heard a bang that she knew was Bellamy’s foot against the wall. Then his face was pressed up against the handhold in the floor panel, and she knew he was lying down above her.  
  
Octavia reached up towards him, and he poked a finger through the gap so she could link hers into it. “Mommy loves us, Bell,” she whispered, repeating the words he’d so often said to her, trying to reassure them both.  
  
He squeezed her finger, but whether he agreed or not, he didn’t say.


	19. 19- Bellamy

Laying in his bunk after school, in the naptime between playing with Octavia and his mother coming home, Bellamy usually dreamt about things that had happened at school- lessons he’d learned or things teachers had said- or else sometimes he dreamed about things he liked, maybe outer space or being in a forest or chasing dinosaurs. Often his dreams were crazy and nonsensical, but he knew that was often his brain trying to work out scary thoughts or figure out things that had confused him. His nightmares were usually about someone catching Octavia, or him accidentally saying something that made someone figure out she existed, or her making a sound during an inspection that would give them all way.  
  
  
_This time his dream wasn’t exactly a nightmare, but it wasn’t totally pleasant either, and he could feel his heart pounding nervously in his chest- or at least, in the dream version of his chest. He had to stand in front of his class and give a presentation, and the only good part about that was Everly, sitting in the front row, smiling at him. If he focused just on her, he didn’t mess up while he talked._  
  
_It was weird because she wasn’t actually in his class, but it was a dream and in a dream anything was possible. It was feeling more real by the second, as his brain accepted all the details- right or wrong- and he droned on and on, not quite remembering what his presentation was about but somehow managing to get through it anyway. He’d forgotten he was dreaming, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to impress Everly with all his knowledge of… something._  
  
_Then something horrible happened- the kids that normally teased and bullied him started laughing, first just a little and then totally losing it, guffawing and smacking their hands on their desks. The teacher didn’t stop them; she started laughing too, until the only person in the room who wasn’t laughing was Everly._  
  
_Bellamy looked down and saw to his horror that he had an erection, standing up hard and obvious in his pants, in front of everyone. It had become a problem at school recently, now that he was nearly thirteen, so sometimes he had to go to the bathroom and let himself calm down, other times he had to put his tablet in front of himself to hide it. It was humiliating, and seemed to happen at the slightest provocation- like noticing a pretty girl- as well as for no reason at all._  
  
_Now, standing in front of his classmates, halfway through his presentation, all of them laughing, Bellamy felt his cheeks heat up like they were on fire. He didn’t know what to do so he ran, out the classroom door and down the hallway, into the janitor’s supply closet_ **.** He stood there and breathed deeply, trying to get his body to calm down.  
  
_Suddenly there was a voice beside him, “Hey.”_  
  
_It was Everly. She was in the closet and she could see everything. He panicked, grabbing the janitor’s cart and stepping behind it so he was hidden from the waist down. He had no idea what to say to her, he just wanted to get away, but she was in front of the door._  
  
_“Those guys are dicks,” she said, similar to what she’d told him at the dance. Since then she’d asked him to hang out several times after school, but he always told her he had to go home, or run an errand for his mother, or that he was grounded. He had sensed she was beginning to be hurt by his constant rebuffs, but little did she knew that what he wanted more than anything was to agree._  
  
_“Yeah,” he said now, his voice cracking- another problem lately._  
  
_She smiled and said, “Don’t feel bad. We just learned about that stuff, remember? It’s normal.”_  
  
_“It’s still embarrassing.”_  
  
_“Tell me about it,” she answered, pointing at her chest. “When I got these, I felt like a freak.”_  
  
_He was surprised. “But those are cool. This is definitely not cool, it’s embarrassing.”_  
  
_Everly laughed softly, but he wasn’t sure what was funny. Her laugh wasn’t cruel like the other kids’ jeering, but sweet and melodic. She grabbed the janitor’s cart and pulled it out of the way. “I think it’s cool,” she said softly, looking down at him. He felt his cheeks go even redder, but at the same time her words made him feel something else, something he couldn’t quite describe, a fluttering in his stomach that was good._  
  
_He licked his lips and asked, “You do?”_  
  
_“Yeah,” she said softly, meeting his eyes and taking a step closer. “Just like you think these are cool.” And then she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a bra, but he could still see a lot more of her than when the shirt was on. He watched the way the tops of her breasts curved across the top of the fabric._  
  
_“Everly,” he said softly, staring at them, not able to take his eyes away._  
  
_“Bellamy,” she said back, her voice as soft as his. She took his hands and raised them to her breasts._  
  
  
He woke himself up with a moan that echoed off the tiny walls of his bunk, and he felt himself trembling all over, especially his thighs, as he realised where he was and that it had all been a dream. Despite his disappointment, he felt amazing, tingly all over and really, really good, his breath coming in little pants, the only discomfort a weird wetness in the front of his boxers.  
  
Then Octavia wriggled closer to him, snuggling into him, and he jolted upright, slamming his forehead hard into the metal roof of his bunk, dazing himself for a moment. Now that she was nearly seven, he felt like there was less and less bunk each night. He knew she had to press close to him to avoid falling out, but right now that was very uncomfortable.  
  
His sudden movement half woke her up and she muttered, “Bell?” She reached for him, tugging on his hip to get him to cuddle her again. He felt himself twitch and tremble again and he pulled himself away from her as fast as he could.  
  
Bellamy extracted himself from her limbs as delicately but quickly as possible and rolled out, landing on the floor and checking on his mother - still asleep. But Octavia wasn’t used to being alone for long and plus he’d woken her with his reaction, so she leaned up on an elbow and looked at him sleepily. “Bell?”  
  
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” he whispered back, as quiet as he could. “Go to sleep, don't wake Mom.”  
  
“I have to go too,” she said, exasperating him.  
  
_“After,”_ he told her, tucking her in tightly so she would get the hint and stay put. She frowned at him, but her eyelids were already heavy again- odds are she wouldn’t even remember this.  
  
Bellamy went to the bathroom and shut the door behind him, just standing there for a minute, breathing hard. Once the adrenaline wore off, it was guilt that took him over, and he went over to their little sink and pressed his hands on the cool ceramic, staring down the drain. He felt guilty for dreaming about Everly like that, guilty for the way he’d reacted to Octavia, guilty for how his body was betraying him. Even now he could feel an ache, his erection not quite gone, like he needed to do something to get rid of it. But the guilt made him not want to at the same time, like his body and mind were at war.  
  
He raised his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror for a long moment, drawing in deep breaths to calm down like he did when this happened at school. He splashed his face with cold water for good measure, but it still took a lot longer than usual. Eventually his body let go and he softened, though it was uncomfortable up until that moment.  
  
Returning to the main room, he could hear that Octavia and his mother were both asleep, their breathing patterns as familiar to him as his own. He walked over to his bunk and stood halfway up the ladder, awkwardly gathering Octavia up in his arms. The blanket came with her when he tugged her off the mattress because he’d wrapped it around her so well, but he didn’t care, he just needed her not to be in his bed tonight. He laid her down beside Aurora, and only when mother and daughter curled into one another and stayed asleep did he relax and climb the rest of the way up to his bunk.  
  
He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, a little cold with no blanket but otherwise fine. He told himself what he already knew- that what had happened was normal, that it didn’t have to be embarrassing, that it wasn’t bad, it was just part of his body’s development, part of growing up.  
  
But he still _felt_ bad.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slow, he tried to calm down, tried to sleep. He looked at the clock- 3:52. Lots of time left before he had to get up for school. Still lots of time to sleep and be rested. But he was nervous too- what if that happened again, the dream, or something like it?  
  
He wished so badly that he had his own room.  
  
There was a stirring below, and the Aurora’s face appeared next to his bed. “Can’t sleep?”  
  
“How did you know?” he asked, surprised.  
  
She shrugged, smiled at him. “Because I’m a mom. Come on, I’ll make you something to help you sleep, just don’t wake your sister.”  
  
He slid off his bunk and grabbed his mother’s blanket, leaving Octavia with hers as he tossed the other one up for after. Aurora gave him a quizzical look as he went and sat at the table. “When did she crawl in with me?” she asked, sounding surprised- it was common for Octavia to switch to Bellamy’s bed, but not the other way around.  
  
Shrugging uncomfortably, he didn’t meet his mother’s eyes as he said, “I moved her. I just needed my own space for once.”  
  
“It’s okay, Bellamy,” she said gently, pouring a small amount of milk into a tiny glass and boiling the kettle, pouring hot water into a larger glass and placing the little one inside. She reached out to rotate it every so often as she watched him. “She squirms around a lot, and you’re getting bigger every day. I know it’s hard.”  
  
He shifted and blushed, but nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
Aurora spun the glass a few more times, then put it in front of him. It wasn’t hot but it was warm, and he downed it in a single gulp. “Mom…?” He trailed off uncertainly, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”  
  
She sat down next to him. “What is it? I can see something’s up.”  
  
His face flamed and he couldn’t _believe_ he was about to talk about this with her, but he had no one else. “I had a dream.”  
  
“A nightmare?” she guessed, when he didn’t go on.  
  
He shook his head, blushing, shifting with discomfort, feeling absolutely humiliated and guilty and confused all at once.  
  
By some miracle, she actually figured it out without him having to say it out loud. Her face softened and she reached out, smoothing her palm over his hair. “Oh… that’s normal, Bellamy.”  
  
“Yeah, I know that,” he said, shrugging out from under her touch. “But then I woke up and she was next to me and I felt all…” He shrugged, unable to complete the sentence.  
  
His mother was quiet for a long time, so long that he looked at her, but he couldn't read her face. She had her hands folded on the table and she was just looking at them, her brow furrowed.  
  
“Mom?” he asked finally, unable to stand the silence.  
  
She sighed and looked at him. “This is my fault.”  
  
Of all the things she could have said, he wasn’t expecting that. “What? Why?”  
  
Aurora just shook her head and hugged him close, in fact a lot tighter than she’d hugged him in a long time. He sensed that this hug was more for her than him, so he let her have it. “Bellamy,” she said, finally letting him go. “Everything that’s happening to you is normal. What’s _not_ normal is our life, the way we live. This room is barely big enough for two, it’s certainly not big enough for three.”  
  
Well that was obvious, but he still wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “But when I’m a guard-”  
  
She shook her head, quieting him. “No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about private space.”  
  
“Oh.” They lost eye contact as he looked down at the table, embarrassed all over again. “It’s okay.”  
  
“You’re just… you’ll have to…” She trailed off, seeming pretty uncomfortable herself. “You’ll just have to use the bathroom. Like… when you have your shower. Or in the sink if you need to.”  
  
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“Bellamy, I want to tell you something really, really important, but you probably won’t like hearing it from me.” He already didn’t like the sound of that, but he said nothing, just waited. He didn’t look at his mother, but he listened carefully as she said, “You’re going to start feeling more and more interested in girls… but you have to be really careful, Bellamy, because your body can hurt them.”  
  
He was so surprised that he looked up at her. “What do you mean?”  
  
Aurora let out a breath, and now it was her turn to glance away. “Men… they can hurt women a lot. Not just with their words or their hands like you know about, but in other ways too.”  
  
“What ways?”  
  
Again, her breath flooded out of her. “Just… don’t worry about that, but be aware of it… if you’re interested in a girl… if you want to do things with her, things with your body, you have to be more than a hundred percent sure she feels the same way. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, and you can accidentally hurt a girl if you get it wrong. Not just hurt her body, but her heart too, really badly. Some men don’t care and they hurt women anyway, even when they _know_ they are.” Her voice wavered just a little, in a way that told him she was speaking from experience.  
  
He swallowed, not liking the sound of any of this one bit, but he kept listening.  
  
“I need you to promise me something, Bellamy,” she said, her voice still soft but urgent now at the same time. “I mean _really_ promise. Other than taking care of your sister, this is the most important thing in the whole world, okay?”  
  
Bellamy was surprised; if it was the second most important thing ever, why had she waited nearly thirteen years to tell him? But he just nodded his head and said, “Okay.”  
  
She took his chin between her fingers and forced him to look at her. Her own expression was hard, and then she said, “If you ever think that a girl isn’t _positive_ she wants to do something with you, or if you’re not _completely_ sure that she wants you to touch her, or if she’s doing it for a bad reason… if you go ahead and do it anyway, you’ll be taking something away from her, and you can never, _ever_ undo that. If you have even a _shadow_ of a doubt, even if your body is telling you to keep going, you don’t. You _can’t._ Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”  
  
He didn’t, not really, but he was trying so hard to get it, and he knew he didn’t want to hurt anyone- he only really knew his mother and Octavia well, but he definitely didn’t want anyone to ever hurt _them,_ so it made sense not to want to hurt other girls. Especially if there was a special way that men could hurt women.  
  
“I think I understand,” he said, nodding. “I promise I won’t, Mom.”  
  
“It’ll make more sense later,” she told him with a sigh. “Just remember what I’ve said. Don’t be one of _those_ men, Bellamy. Don’t you dare.”  
  
The way she said it- _those_ men- it was clear they were worse even than men like Roman who yelled and hit, worse than anything he could imagine, worse than all the tyrants and monsters put together.  
  
With every fibre of his being, he wanted so badly never to be one of _those_ men.  
  
“Go to bed, Bellamy,” his mother said gently. “And you can put Octavia in my bunk whenever you need to, but use the bathroom just in case she sees, okay? She won’t understand and she might get scared.”  
  
He thought he sort of understood that part- like when he’d gone in the bathroom to calm down earlier- and he certainly didn’t want to scare Octavia, so he nodded and said, “I will, Mom.”  
  
“It’ll make more sense later,” she said again, patting his arm. “Go to bed.”  
  
Bellamy did, climbing up into his bunk and wrapping the blanket around him. Not long afterward, Aurora followed suit. Her breathing soon evened into sleep, but he must have missed the window for the warm milk to work, because he was still awake three hours later when it was time to get up for school.


	20. 20- Octavia

Bellamy was home sick from school and it was like heaven. They had all day together. Octavia spent the morning bringing him whatever he needed, drinks of water and food and blankets and cloths made wet and cold. He wasn’t too sick, just a tummy ache which was gone by the middle of the day after he’d had more sleep, but he still didn’t have to go back to school, so they had extra time to play.  
  
It had been so long since she’d been in someone’s company for an entire day, she couldn’t believe how great it was. She didn’t even mind that Bellamy was sick, and she actually enjoyed pretending to be his servant. But once he’d had his nap and something to eat and drink, his energy really picked up and they played and played.  
  
“Okay, O, let’s see who can run from one end of our quarters to the other the fastest,” he said, and he always won but she didn’t mind.  
  
Or maybe he would say, “Hey, O, I bet you can’t hide somewhere where I can’t find you?” She couldn’t, it was too small and there was nowhere but their shower, the laundry basket she was too big for now, and the hole. She was getting close to lifting the panel up by herself though.  
  
“Bell, let’s play pretend, can we? You be a prince and I’ll be a princess. Or no wait, you be a knight and I’ll be a princess. Or how about-”  
  
“I thought you always liked being queen?” he interrupted her, smiling wryly.  
  
She shook her head, making a face. “Princesses have more fun. Queens just sit around on their thrones and make rules.”  
  
He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I like princesses best too.”  
  
“Do _you_ want to be the princess?” she asked him. “Yeah! And I’ll be the prince.”  
  
“Okay,” he said with a shrug. They played like that for a while, Octavia rescuing Bellamy and then Bellamy rescuing Octavia and then both of them rescuing her toys. Then Octavia got bored and everyone’s heads got cut off.  
  
“That’s not very nice,” Bellamy remarked.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be nice, because I’m the queen and I make all the rules.”  
  
“I thought you were the princess?”  
  
He was right; she’d gotten confused. “What’s the difference?”  
  
“The queen is the princess’s mother.”  
  
That made sense. “So that’s why Mommy makes all our rules. But when we grow up then we can make our own, right?”  
  
“Right,” he said. “Hey, Octavia, let’s see who can jump the highest.”  
  
They did, leaping up in the air and trying desperately to touch the ceiling, but neither of them could, though Bellamy was a lot closer. Then they took turns jumping off the little step near the front door, seeing which one could go furthest across. They ended up in a heap, laughing.  
  
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he announced, leaving and closing himself inside. That gave her a chance to practice more jumping, thinking that maybe when he came back she could do better, beat him, but she never seemed to go any further than her very best jump that he’d already seen.  
  
An idea occurred to her and she stepped up onto the floor and over to the ladder, climbing up to the top bunk. She waited, and when Bellamy emerged from the bathroom she called out to him, “Look at me,” and then jumped the best jump she could, right off the bunk and onto the floor.  
  
Only it wasn’t the floor she hit at all, it was the table first, catching her in the elbow, and then she hit the ground second, rolling onto her side and clutching her arm to her chest. The pain took her breath away, not letting her cry audibly, but hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she lay there trying to breathe.  
  
It all happened in a moment, but then in the next moment Bellamy was running to her, skidding onto his knees, reaching her side, grabbing her. “Octavia!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide and scared as he looked down at her. He reached for her arm and tried to pry it gently from her grip but she wouldn't let him- it hurt way too much, every tiny movement.  
  
“Let me see, come on,” he coaxed her. He helped her sit up and pressed his knees against hers, and only then did she allow him to cradle her arm into his lap, letting him examine it.  
  
It was bleeding pretty badly, a big ugly rip torn right down half her lower arm; she could see how red and juicy it looked inside. Bellamy quickly pulled his shirt off and pressed it against the wound. “Can you bend it?”  
  
Gingerly, she tried- she could, but it hurt. “Ow,” she whispered, still crying.  
  
“Where?” he asked her urgently. “Inside, or where it’s cut?”  
  
She sensed the importance of the question, but everything hurt and it was impossible to tell. “I don’t know,” she wailed, starting to panic.  
  
“Shshsh, it’s okay,” he said, touching his fingertips to her lips to remind her to be quiet- he never slammed his hand over her mouth the way their mother did, which always gave her a big shock. “Just try again, carefully- bend it slowly and see where it hurts.”  
  
She closed her eyes and did as he said, carefully bending it forwards and backwards. “It’s the cut,” she decided, nodding. “Yeah, the cut.”  
  
“Can I see?” He sounded relieved.  
  
Octavia hesitated, but relented. She let him peel his shirt back from her forearm, wincing as it pulled away from the wound. The blood started flowing again immediately, so Bellamy pressed it back into place.  
  
“It’s broken,” she whispered, crying again.  
  
“No, it’s not, thank God,” he said, shaking his head. “You didn’t break it, you just cut it on the corner of the table. See here, where it’s sharp?” He showed her the edge of the metal, where there was a tiny jagged bit that stuck out, and she was surprised how little it was compared to the big cut in had made. But it helped a little, to see what had caused her this pain.  
  
When she’d said it was broken, she’d just meant that her arm was damaged- the torn skin, all that shiny stuff showing underneath- but he meant the bone, that the bone was okay, and she knew that was good.  
  
“What are we going to do?” she asked him, looking up at the clock. Their mother wouldn’t be home for hours.  
  
“Just hold that on there as tight as you can,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.” Octavia pushed hard- it hurt but felt good at the same time. Bellamy rushed around the room, grabbing things. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands, and then he boiled the kettle. When it was steaming and bubbly she saw him stick his whole hand a little bit inside, with something hanging off it. She was worried he’d burn himself, couldn’t figure out what he was doing.  
  
When he came back he had a needle in his hand- a plain sewing needle like she used when she practiced stitching. “The boiling water takes all the germs away,” he explained.  
  
“What about the thread?” she asked him.  
  
“I boiled that too,” he assured her, holding out the sopping black spool.  
  
“I want blue,” she complained. “Blue’s my favourite colour, Bell.”  
  
With a sigh he went and boiled the blue spool, then he boiled the needle again for good measure and came back to her. He pulled her into his lap and said, “Lean into me, this is going to hurt.”  
  
His words scared her but she did as he said, climbing into his lap and laying her cheek over his heart so she could listen to the steady rhythm. She didn’t look as he pulled away his shirt and set it aside, but she could feel the drops of blood curling down her arm like little tickles, and the throbbing pain from the cut itself.  
  
The sudden sharpness made her jump but Bellamy’s arm was tight around her. His lips were against her ear as he whispered, “Hold still,” and his hot breath made her shiver a little. It hurt a lot what he was doing. She didn’t dare look as she felt her skin being pricked, pulled, and moved again and again. She cried, sobbing into his chest, hardly able to keep quiet, hardly able to sit still, but somehow she did, listening to the rhythm of his heart, which had gone faster.  
  
“There once was a girl named Octavia,” Bellamy whispered, warm and urgent into her ear. “She was so brave, she jumped from a mountain, but she got hurt on the way down, so a kindly prince came and sewed her up again, good as new.”  
  
Her tears had slowed just a little so she could listen to him but it hurt so badly, she couldn't stay preoccupied for long. “Almost _done,_ Bell?” she wailed.  
  
“Shshsh,” he whispered urgently, tucking her more into his chest. She stole a look at her arm and it was incredible, half of it still open and oozing blood, the other half closed, crisscrossed in a lattice of blue stitches going back and forth along the rip in her skin. He was making her whole again.  
  
“What if germs get in there and I die?” she whispered, watching as his fingers moved the needle from side-to-side through her wound. It was horrible and fascinating all at once. His hands were shaking and she couldn’t help but notice that the stitches were wobbly, like hers. For some reason that made her happy, like they shared something she’d never known about until this moment.  
  
“You won’t,” he said firmly, using his free hand to tuck her head back against his chest. She listened to the pounding of his heart, but even though it was fast it was still her Bell’s heart, the one she knew better than anything. The pain was still there, but it was duller now, far away.  
  
  
  
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew she was laying in her mother’s bunk and Bellamy was sitting next to her, stroking her hair. “Hey,” he said softly, smiling down at her, looking relieved.  
  
Octavia raised her arm and looked at the little row of blue thread. He’d washed it, so there was no more blood, except a tiny bit seeping out in one place. It still throbbed and ached, but that sharp pain was gone. She looked over at the table and saw it was upside down, that there was a hammer beside it. “Did you hurt the table, Bell?”  
  
“No,” he answered, shaking his head, smiling at her. “I’m just going to make sure all the sharp bits are pounded down. I had a feel and there are a few.”  
  
“I’m sorry I jumped from your bunk,” she whispered. “I thought I could do it.”  
  
Gently he said, “If you want to try new things that’s fine, but just make sure I’m there, okay?”  
  
She shook her head vehemently. “I’m never trying anything new ever again.”  
  
Bellamy frowned and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. He took her face in his hands and looked at her firmly. “It’s okay, Octavia,” he told her. “You can. You _should,_ actually. But just make sure I’m with you.”  
  
She sniffled a little and said, “Is Mommy going to be really mad?”  
  
Bellamy hesitated, then nodded. “Probably. But it was an accident.”  
  
“We could lie and say a monster did it,” she suggested. “Instead of me.”  
  
“That would only make her scared, and then she’d never let you do anything, O.” Bellamy pointed out, and she knew he was right.  
  
_“I’m_ scared,” she whispered.  
  
His frown was deep. “Of Mom?”  
  
She nodded. “When she gets mad, it’s scary. I just want her to be happy at me.”  
  
Bellamy let out a long breath and he leaned down, kissing her softly on the forehead. “She is, mostly,” he said gently. “She just wants you to be safe, and so do I.”  
  
“But you’re nicer,” she insisted. “You love me better.”  
  
“Octavia, that’s not true,” he said, his voice suddenly urgent. “It just feels like that because Mom is stricter and in charge of punishments. If I was in charge of punishments then you’d like her better.”  
  
Octavia wondered if that was true, but she couldn’t imagine Bellamy ever punishing her, not really. And she couldn’t imagine liking anyone more than him. “When we get big and have kids, will we punish them?” she asked him, not liking that idea. “Will you?”  
  
“Neither of us are going to have kids, remember?” he said gently.  
  
She’d forgotten that. “But if we did.”  
  
Bellamy shrugged. “Yeah, if we did, I guess we would… everyone has to get punished somehow, otherwise how would they know if they were doing bad things?”  
  
“Like being floated,” she said with a solemn nod.  
  
He hesitated but then said, “No. Not exactly.”  
  
Octavia gave him a devious grin. “What about Mommy? If _she_ does something wrong, can _we_ punish her?”  
  
Bellamy laughed and nudged her over on the bed, lying down beside her. “I wish.”  
  
She rolled over, being careful of her hurt arm, and curled close to him. “Bell? When we grow up and get married, _we_ could have babies.”  
  
He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, O.”  
  
“But what if I want one?”  
  
“Then you can have one,” he answered with a soft sigh. “A long time from now, with someone else- when we don’t live in this room, and you’re as old as Mom.”  
  
All of that seemed like it would never, ever happen- meeting another person, escaping this room, and being Aurora’s age seemed equally unimaginable, impossible. With a sigh that matched her brother’s, she said, “Okay.”  
  
“You really are going to be free one day, Octavia,” he whispered, his voice breaking a little as he spoke, but when she looked up at his face he wasn’t crying. He cleared his throat and added, “I promise.”  
  
A promise meant something- maybe not to Aurora, but to them. A promise wasn’t ever made lightly between the Blake siblings.  
  
“But how?” she asked him softly. “How will I get free?”  
  
“You will because I’m going to figure out a way,” he told her.  
  
“Yeah, but _how?”_  
  
Bellamy shifted a little. “I don’t know yet.” He tried to make a joke, “I said I’m _going_ to figure out a way, not that I _have,_ otherwise you’d be free already, silly.”  
  
But somehow it didn’t seem funny, and she shrugged. “Maybe.”  
  
He grew serious, then reached down and tipped her chin up with his fingers. She looked into his eyes, so like their mother’s but so different- softer, darker. “I will,” he told her. “I need you to believe me.”  
  
Octavia searched his gaze for a moment and she thought there was probably nothing he’d ever said that she didn’t believe. She nodded solemnly. “Okay.”  
  
Bellamy relaxed again and pulled her close, holding her, tucking her head under his chin. “One day, when we’re far away from here, you’ll be able to do anything you want,” he murmured softly, using his storytelling voice even though it wasn’t a story- not exactly. “And you’ll be able to _be_ anything too… you could have a dozen babies and marry anyone you want and jump off whatever you feel like.”  
  
It seemed like a beautiful place, this future where all those things could be possible. Octavia couldn’t quite imagine it, but she liked the way his voice sounded as he whispered it in her ear, the sincerity in his tone.  
  
“But I want to marry _you,_ Bell,” she insisted, still not really understanding fully what that meant- only that if they got married, they’d be together forever.  
  
He shook his head and smiled softly, said again, “It doesn’t work that way.”  
  
Octavia let out a breath of frustration but she didn’t push any further. Snuggling close to him, she pressed her face into his neck and inhaled his scent, as familiar to her as her mother’s, as this room’s four walls. She closed her eyes.  
  
Bellamy’s voice was insistent as he said to her, “But I mean it, O. You won’t always be in this room… you’ll get out of here, and you’ll have all kinds of adventures. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she assured him, kissing the soft spot where his neck met his shoulder. “But only if you come with me.”


	21. 21- Bellamy

“But… don’t you want to?” Everly asked in a small voice, her eyes on the floor.  
  
“Of _course_ I do,” he said quickly, stepping close to her. They were standing outside the schoolroom and she’d caught him just before he hurried back to his quarters. “I do, I just… I have to go home.”  
  
“But you _always_ have to go home,” she said, letting out an impatient breath as she looked up and met his gaze again. “Why?”  
  
His heart sank a little. “I… it’s hard to explain, I just have to.”  
  
She shook her head. “I know your mom won’t be home yet… everyone says she works two jobs and one goes really late.”  
  
His face turned red and he gritted his teeth, biting out, “So what, you’re like everyone else, you think she’s just a… a…” He trailed off, too angry to finish.  
  
“Bellamy!” she exclaimed, and he could see the hurt on her face. “What are you talking about? You _know_ I’m not like everyone else. I’m just saying… if you don't want to hang out with me then _say_ so.” Softly she added, “Don’t keep leading me on.”  
  
Now it was his turn to look down at the floor. Is that what he was doing? Was he leading her on, being unfair? He _liked_ Everly, really liked her, and had for a year, but he had to get home to Octavia. How was he supposed to make those two things work together? Could he?  
  
When he looked back up at Everly, she was frowning at him. “This is your last chance.” The words were harsh, but her voice was soft- she sounded scared.  
  
Bellamy’s heart sank. Was he becoming what his mother warned him against? One of _those_ men- the ones who hurt girls? He couldn't stand the thought.  
  
“Okay, but only half an hour,” he said impulsively, not wanting to hurt her. “Half an hour, but then I _have_ to go home.. _._ deal?”  
  
Everly brightened. “Deal.” She grabbed his hand and he held hers tight, amazed yet again at how soft it was, how nervous it made him to feel something so simple as their fingers intertwined.  
  
“You know, it's my birthday soon. Then we’ll be the same age.”  
  
She smiled at him. “Yeah, I know… I was thinking, maybe we could do something? I mean, I know you’ll be doing something with your mom, but after?”  
  
Bellamy grinned; he couldn’t imagine what that ‘something’ might be, but the idea was exciting, that a girl- and a girl like her- might do something for him for his birthday. He squeezed her hand and said, “Yeah, that would be great.”  
  
Everly seemed happy about that, and he couldn't help but think how lucky he was. A year since they’d first danced at the junior masquerade ball, a year of hanging out at lunch sometimes, and also a year of her occasionally attempts to invite him out with her outside of school and him making up excuses. He was so lucky she didn’t just tell him to get out of her life, but he always blamed it on his mother being strict or needy, and she couldn’t seem to fault him for family loyalty. If only she knew the true extent.  
  
She led him through the corridors away from the school and it took him a little while to realise they were headed for Mecha- her station. She obviously knew the place like the back of her hand, leading him through weaving corridors and past cordoned off areas where engineering crews worked with blowtorches. Bellamy could see the flashing lights of their sparks through the windows into those rooms.  
  
“Are you going to be an engineer?” he asked her. “Or a mechanic?”  
  
She shook her head. “No, I want to be a teacher actually.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” He smiled at her; he could picture her as a teacher. “That would suit you.”  
  
“I love kids,” she told him with a warm smile.  
  
“Do you know any?”  
  
“Yeah… my parents had me pretty young and now they have a lot of older friends who have just started having their kids recently. I babysit.”  
  
“That’s really cool,” he told her, but somewhere in the back of the mind he was thinking, _maybe she would be good with Octavia. Maybe she likes kids enough to protect her. Maybe she could be trusted._  
  
But that train of thought was terrifying, so he shut it down.  
  
“What about you?” she asked him. “Are you going to be a worker? Sew like your mom?”  
  
He shook his head. “No, I know the basics but I’m not even that good at it. I’m going to be a guard.”  
  
Her eyebrows shot up as she looked over at him. “Really? But I thought it was really hard to become a guard if you aren’t from Alpha.”  
  
He smiled wryly at her and shrugged. “Well, as my mother would say, hard but not impossible. She wants me to be _head_ guard.”  
  
Everly laughed a little. “Head guard? Wow… that would be pretty cool.” She was silent for a few moments and then she asked him tentatively, “Is that what _you_ want?”  
  
The question surprised him. “What?”  
  
“You said your mom wants you to be a guard… but is that what _you_ want?”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” he said, shrugging. “It’s a good job, I’ll get nice quarters, and I won’t have to worry about inspections.”  
  
Her expression was quizzical. “Why do you worry about inspections?”  
  
Bellamy froze for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “No, I just mean I wouldn’t have to have as many, and I’d know when they’re going to happen so they wouldn’t be so annoying. I’m not _worried_ about them, they’re just irritating.”  
  
“Oh,” she said, shrugging a little. “I never mind them that much. They’re just doing their jobs.”  
  
Internally he thought, _Yeah, you don’t mind them much because you don’t have to think about how there’s a really good chance they’ll ruin your whole life._  
  
But out loud he said, “Yeah, that’s true. And I guess that’ll be me one day.”  
  
She stopped walking- they were in a little hallway off from the main one with that dead-ended in a small airlock. He looked at her, and her brown eyes twinkled a little as she smiled and said softly, “And when you are, will you be nice to me during inspections?”  
  
“Of course I will,” he assured her, smiling back. “I’ll be nice to everyone.”  
  
Everly giggled a little and then squeezed his hand before letting go. She looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then she started climbing the ladder that disappeared into a panel in the ceiling. “Come on!” she called down to him as she pushed up on the panel.  
  
Bellamy shook his head, still smiling, and followed her up. He tried not to check out her ass for the brief moments she was above him, but he couldn't help it, it was like his eyes had a mind of their own. A lot of that kind of thing was happening lately.  
  
Once they were both through the panel, she put it back down and sealed it tight. They were inside a small room, not very big- cramped for adults, but because they were kids it wasn’t too bad. As long as they were sitting, there was more than enough room. He could see other hatches in the walls nearby.  
  
“You know what’s really funny?” she asked him, her voice a bit quiet. “We’re technically under someone’s floor right now.” She pointed up at the smooth metal above them, and he realised that was why this seemed so familiar.  
  
“That is funny,” he said to her, though it wasn’t really.  
  
Everly shifted herself close to him. “I thought we could hang out here and chat. We can’t be super loud, but that metal’s pretty soundproof.”   
  
He knew she was right, so he nodded and said, “Cool… well, it’s nice and private and no one will bug us.”  
  
She moved a bit closer again, until her knees were touching the side of his leg. She was looking at him strangely, as though her gaze was going up through her eyelashes. He swallowed a little, that look giving him a strange but good feeling.  
  
“Bellamy?” she asked softly.  
  
“Yeah?” He heard his voice crack and he blushed, but she didn’t seem to notice.  
  
“What are you thinking about?”  
  
His mind was a total blank. He was literally thinking nothing, and then when she asked that question, all he could think about was how stupid she would think he was when she figured out he was thinking nothing. Did girls think all the time?  
  
“Um… you,” he said, and when she smiled he relaxed a little.  
  
But then she asked, “What about me?”  
  
He felt like he was navigating an asteroid field, so he just told her the truth, “I think you’re beautiful.” Even if he wasn’t thinking it _then,_ he had thought it before, many times, so it wasn’t a lie.  
  
The way her face lit up, he was sure he’d said the right thing. She seemed to study his face for a moment, as if debating something, and then she said softly, “So… do you want to kiss me?”  
  
His eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling and he felt his palms go sweaty but he nodded his head, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his head. “Yeah. Definitely.”  
  
She grinned. “Have you ever?”  
  
“No,” he said honestly, shaking his head. “Never. Have you?”  
  
“Once,” she told him, nodding. “A friend of mine, last year.”  
  
He couldn’t help but wonder, was that before or after the dance? But he knew it was none of his business.  
  
“So, um… do you want to kiss me?” he asked her finally, mostly to fill the silence.  
  
She giggled. “Of course, or I wouldn’t have asked you.”  
  
“Oh,” he said, blushing. “Right.”  
  
There was another long silence, and he felt like he should be saying something, but he had no idea what.  
  
“So… are you going to kiss me?” she asked finally, her smile a bit more subdued.  
  
_Idiot!_ “Yeah, of course I will… I just… like I said, I’ve never done it, so I hope I’m okay.”  
  
Everly shook her head. “Don’t worry about that.” She placed her hands into his and closed her eyes.  
  
Bellamy felt a surge of anxiety and he just watched her for a moment- he could, since her eyes were closed. He really liked her hair, the soft black curtain of it, and her skin like caramel, and that mole just to the left side of her lips. And the lips themselves, they were so plump and soft looking.  
  
Suddenly he realised his own lips were chapped and he felt instantly embarrassed, but he just tried not to overthink it and he leaned in, closing his eyes as soon as he felt the press of her lips against his, and then he stayed there for a moment before pulling back. The whole thing was over so fast and he was so nervous that he didn’t even really properly feel the kiss, but it had happened. He was no longer someone who’d never kissed a girl. He felt elated.  
  
Everly opened her eyes and looked at him, through her lashes again, and her smile told him he hadn’t totally messed this up. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again, and this time he was braver and he let their lips linger together, moving his in time with the way she moved hers.  
  
He couldn’t believe the feelings that evoked- the electric shock from head to toe, the tingling that seemed to travel to every part of him, then concentrating between his legs and in his heart and stomach, which fluttered nervously.  
  
Everly’s hand curled gently into his hair and he copied her, figuring that was safe, sliding his own fingers into her hair that was softer even than the softest silk- and he would know, being the son of a seamstress.  
  
This second kiss went on for a long time, until finally she pulled back. Bellamy knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't stop. She grinned back and said wryly, “I bet now you regret avoiding me so much.”  
  
So is _this_ what she’d wanted to do every time she’d asked him to ‘hang out’? Because now that he knew that, he definitely _did_ regret it.  
  
Emboldened, he cradled the back of her head in his hand and pulled her close to him again, watching her close her eyes in anticipation and doing the same. He kissed her softly, then grew braver and moved his lips against hers more and more. Somehow, the more their mouths moved, the better it felt, not just in his lips but in his whole body- it felt amazing, like he never wanted it to stop.  
  
Suddenly he realised he was hard.  
  
Breaking off the kiss, his face flaming, he grabbed his tablet and tried to put it in his lap without making a big deal about it. Everly looked hurt when he first pulled back, but then she blushed too as she saw what he was doing.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, wishing very badly that he was invisible right now.  
  
“Sorry,” she said back to him, her face as red as his.  
  
“That was really nice,” he assured her. “The kissing. I liked it a lot.”  
  
“Me too,” she said, smiling shyly. “We should do it again.”  
  
He wanted to, badly, but he also wanted to figure out how to do it without _this_ happening. It actually hurt a little.  
  
“I think it’s been more than half an hour anyway,” she told him, and she caught her eyes flickering to his lap, which for some reason he liked and it made him grow even harder, which made him hurt even worse.  
  
“Then I have to go home,” he said, scrambling up, half crouched over as he moved back to the panel.  
  
Everly clambered to her feet as well and opened the hatch, letting him climb down first. “Okay… want me to walk with you halfway home?”  
  
“No, no, it’s fine… I know the way,” he assured her as he stepped off the ladder at the bottom, back in the corridor.  
  
She did the same and nodded, but she looked uncertain, disappointed. “Okay… so…”  
  
“We’ll do it again,” Bellamy assured her. “Trust me, I want to. I’m really sorry, it’s just that I’m late.”  
  
They both pretended that was the real reason he was rushing off.  
  
It was humiliating walking through the corridors back to Factory holding his tablet in front of his lap, though he was pretty sure he felt like everyone noticed even though they actually didn’t. He kept thinking about Everly’s lips, their kisses, and that made everything worse- harder, more painful, more urgent.  
  
By the time he got back to his quarters, he was so relieved to see his front door that he didn’t even mind the barrage of accusations that Octavia threw at him as soon as he entered it.  
  
“You’re late! Why? What happened? Where _were_ you?” She’d obviously been crying, and her tears started again as she tried to hug him and he pushed her away as gently as she could. “Bell-”  
  
“It’s okay, I was just late getting out of school and now I have to go to the bathroom, so just… wait a minute, alright?” he pleaded with her, keeping her at arms length as she insisted on trying to hug him again.  
  
Finally she gave up and stomped over to her toys, giving him the silent treatment, but he didn’t mind. He hurried into the bathroom and set his tablet down before peeling off his clothes, wincing a little as he dropped his pants and boxers. The pain was like a muscle ache but worse, and as soon as he was naked he could see why- he was harder than he’d ever seen. He knew intuitively that deep breathing wasn’t going to do anything this time.  
  
He turned on the shower- no hot water, just cold today- and stepped inside, gasping a little as it pelted his back. Even still, his erection didn’t go down.  
  
Bellamy pulled in some deep breaths, laying his forehead against the plastic wall of the shower, but all he could think about was Everly- her soft body pressed into him, the slide of her lips against his, the electric shock and jolts of pleasure that had tingled through his body.  
  
On impulse, he reached down and grasped himself, thinking of Everly’s soft, full lips, thinking of her hair like silk. His hand moved intuitively as he stroked himself, thinking about her breasts and the way they had pressed against his chest, the soft firmness of them. He imagined her naked, imagined her here in the shower with him, holding him, kissing him, imagined that it was her hand around him now, her soft fingers grasping him- moving, caressing, stroking. It felt so good, he could hardly believe it.  
  
Bellamy’s eyes flew open and a groan rippled up from his throat without him even meaning to make the sound, and then he felt himself finally going soft again, no longer hurting, feeling nothing but pleasure and a heavy sleepiness taking over his body. He looked down and saw the mess he’d made on the shower wall and he blushed, quickly directing the flow of water to get rid of it before he finally turned off the water, stepping out to dry himself off.  
  
Octavia was waiting once he emerged again, dry and dressed and incredibly tired. “I’m sorry I got mad,” she told him softly. “Play with me?”  
  
But he felt so delicious; all he wanted to do was crawl into his bed. “Nap, then play?” he tried compromising with her.  
  
She let out a dramatic sigh but relented, crawling into his bunk with him. Bellamy tucked them both into his blanket and then nudged her over onto her side so he could spoon her. He felt guilty about it, but as he was falling asleep he imagined that Octavia’s body was Everly’s pressed up against him, imagined that he was spooning her instead of his sister, and that the sweet smell of Octavia’s hair was Everly’s instead. He dreamed of her lips, her breasts, her soft hand around him.


	22. 22- Octavia

After Bellamy’s homework was done, he piggybacked Octavia around their quarters for a while. It was a welcome relief after the difficulty of his schoolwork- at fourteen, Bellamy was learning harder and harder things, and Octavia often struggled to keep up. Even with his tailor-made lessons that taught her a small portion of what he was learning, sometimes she still felt nothing but frustration by the end of a particularly hard lesson.  
  
But after, she could be a kid again, hoisted up on Bellamy’s back, with him galloping her around their little room, avoiding the furniture like they were rocks or trees, calling out the scenery that he pretended to pass. At eight years old, Octavia only saw their quarters now, but it was still exciting to imagine the forests or the jungles of their adventures, close her eyes and trust Bellamy’s strong back underneath her, his legs moving them from place to place.  
  
“Okay, you two,” Aurora said suddenly, interrupting their journey to the river. “Inspection time.”  
  
“When?” Bellamy asked, looking at the clock.  
  
“Five minutes,” their mother answered.  
  
Octavia scowled, but dutifully slid off Bellamy’s back and onto the floor, waiting for the hole to be opened. She was almost big enough to lift the panel herself now, but not quite. Maybe next year. Secretly, Bellamy had told her that when she could push it up herself, she wouldn’t have to hide in there all day while he went to school and their mother worked. She could come out all by herself and have her own adventures, and Aurora would never even have to know. Octavia couldn’t wait for that, and tested her strength on the panel at least once a week.  
  
Now she climbed into the hole and lay down, curling onto the blanket that kept her from getting too cold lying directly on the metal floor.  
  
“I need to make you new pants,” she heard her mother say, as Bellamy fitted the panel down flush into the floor. “You’ve had another growth spurt.”  
  
“Yeah, they’re a little short but it’s fine,” her brother’s voice came next, and Octavia heard the creaking as he slid the table back into place. “It’s fine, I’ll rip the stitches. They’ll last a few more months.”  
  
Octavia wore dresses because she could wear the same one for years and it would just get shorter- the only thing she ever got new was shoes and tights, and very rarely. Plus, new didn’t really mean _new,_ it meant something new to _her-_ a hand-me-down of her mother’s or even Bellamy’s, or something Aurora got at work, scrap fabric patched into a dress or something that was too full of holes to be repurposed for anyone else. Since no one ever saw Octavia but her family, she never needed to worry about looking good.  
  
“You need a haircut too,” Aurora remarked, as though not hearing him. “So does your sister.”  
  
“I want bangs!” Octavia yelled out from under the floor. She’d seen girls with bangs recently, in photos that Bellamy had brought home from school, and she liked the look.  
  
There had never been, nor would there ever be, a picture of her.  
  
“Octavia,” her mother hissed. “Don’t _speak_ when you’re under there.”  
  
“They’re not even here yet, Mom,” Bellamy snapped. Then, much kinder he said, “Sure, O, you can have bangs.”  
  
Octavia peered through the handhold in the top of the panel and saw a sliver of Bellamy’s face, high above her. She grinned her thanks at him, though she knew he couldn’t see her.  
  
There was a bang at the door and instantly she made her body go slack, curling into herself to become smaller, so she would be little and quiet and invisible- nobody real, a non-person, someone never born. It’s what she had to be, what they all had to pretend to stay alive. That Aurora had no daughter. That Bellamy had no sister. That their family was a lie.  
  
When she was in the floor, she ceased to exist. It was a scary feeling.  
  
Above her she heard Bellamy say, “Ready.” She knew that every inspection was planned to the tiniest detail- it wasn’t enough that she was hidden. Her mother and brother also had to seem casual, doing normal things, but it was all staged. Because they’d known an inspection was coming today, they’d intentionally left some of Bellamy’s homework undone so he could sit at the table and do it while the guards moved around their quarters.  
  
She heard her mother’s footsteps go to the door, heard it open, heard a man’s voice say, “Miss Blake, by authority of the council we’re here to perform a random inspection.”  
  
“Welcome,” Aurora told them, though Octavia knew they were not. “Come in.”  
  
Bellamy was sitting at the table, she reminded herself- he was only just above her, keeping her safe. They couldn't get her if he was there. She pictured him sitting in the chair, doing his homework, his pencil moving across the page. It calmed her a little, but she was still scared.  
  
She knew it was a man’s voice because it was deeper than Aurora’s, deeper than Bellamy’s. But Bellamy’s voice had started changing into a man’s voice too over the last few months, she’d noticed, along with other changes- his hair was going curly, his shoulders getting wide. Sometimes his voice cracked and went high, but lately it hadn’t done that as much, and it was just deepening more and more. It was strange, because she associated deep voices with scary monsters- guards who came to turn their lives upside down, who wanted to find her. Not Bellamy. Bellamy could never be a monster.  
  
There was a lot of scuffling, movement, footfalls, as the men swept their quarters, pulled up their mattresses and went through their small containers of belongings.  
  
Her mother had told her that the reason they came was to look for contraband.  
  
Bellamy had told her she was the most precious contraband of all.  
  
They always did the same thing- checked the bunks, checked the containers, checked the bathroom. She listened to their movements track around the room, and when she heard the bathroom door close for the second time she knew they’d be leaving soon.  
  
But then one said, “Out of my way, kid.”  
  
“What?” Bellamy’s voice was casual, but she knew him so well, she could hear the effort it took to make it that way.  
  
“Just move,” the man snapped.  
  
“Bellamy.” Aurora’s voice was sharp. “Do as he says.”  
  
There were a few charged moments of silence, and then Octavia heard the sound of Bellamy pushing his chair back, standing up, and walking away to join their mother by the door.  
  
This had never happened before. She felt her heart jump, the beats coming faster and faster, as she heard the slide of the table, and she knew it was moving away. Would the panel open now? She didn’t dare move, but she squeezed her eyes shut as though that could make her invisible.  
  
“What are you looking for, inspector?” Aurora’s voice too, was absolutely neutral, but Octavia heard the tiny tremor in it.  
  
“The other day we had a family in Factory hide extra rations under the table,” he said impatiently. “They put a false sheet of metal under the tabletop so it looked normal.”  
  
“I see,” Aurora said, and Octavia could hear the guard rapping on the table with his knuckles, scratching around to look for a similar hiding place.  
  
But not _her-_ they weren’t looking for her at all!  
  
She heard a clatter as the table was righted, and she waited for him to slide it back into place. “May as well check the floor too,” he said, sounding almost bored.  
  
Octavia’s heart stopped and her breathing hitched.  
  
“Come on, man,” one of the other inspectors called out, and from where his voice originated Octavia knew he was standing outside their quarters, in the hall- in fact, the man now feeling around on the floor seemed to be the only one left inside.  
  
“Just hang on,” he snapped irritably. “I need to be thorough.”  
  
“Look, I know you want a promotion, but we have other rooms to check,” the second inspector said, just as impatient.  
  
“Now, now,” Aurora said. “The inspector just wants to be careful. It’s for our own protection, isn’t it? He’ll catch up with you.”  
  
There was a sigh of an annoyance, but then the front door closed, and Octavia knew there was only one left. But it didn’t matter if there was one or a thousand- if he opened the floor, that was the end.  
  
“Mom-”  
  
“Inspector Marren,” Aurora’s voice interrupted Bellamy’s, but Octavia was confused- it _was_ her mother, but she sounded strange, her voice a bit slower and higher than usual. “I’m actually glad you stayed behind. There’s something I wanted to… discuss with you.”  
  
“What?” the man sounded impatient. “What is it?”  
  
Aurora cleared her throat, and Octavia heard the sounds of the search stopping for a moment- obviously the man was now looking at her mother. She went on, “Maybe I could have my son go run an errand for me while you and I… talk?”  
  
Suddenly Octavia heard a smile in the man’s voice. “Oh yeah?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Aurora answered, and this time her voice was deeper, almost rumbly.  
  
“Mom-”  
  
“Bellamy,” she snapped. “Go pick up our dinner.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Go on,” she said forcefully. _“Now.”_  
  
Octavia heard her brother’s angry footsteps, heard the door open and then slam shut. She heard her mother exhale with annoyance and say, “Actually, I’m relieved to have him out of my hair.” Octavia heard her step closer to the inspector, whose breathing suddenly changed a little. “I’ve noticed you at the last couple of inspections,” her mother said softly, in that same rumbly voice. “I was hoping we might get a chance alone.”  
  
“I, uh… I need to finish this first.”  
  
Aurora laughed softly. “You don’t honestly think I’m hiding extra rations under my floor?” she teased lightly.  
  
Octavia heard her mother moving around their quarters, sliding her fingers into various handholds on the floor panels and pulling as though to try to dislodge them. She even did the same on the one above Octavia’s head, making a big show of trying to pull it up but obviously not actually trying, because it didn’t move.  
  
What was strange about that was that through the little rectangular hole just big enough for a hand, Octavia could see that her mother’s shirt was undone, all the way down, and her breasts on view- in her bra, yes, but still. Octavia couldn’t understand why that was; even with Bellamy, even in their tiny room, she took care not to be any more exposed than necessary. And this seemed totally unnecessary.  
  
She continued her show of trying to lift up panels, until Octavia heard the inspector’s voice say, “Okay take off the rest. I’m satisfied.”  
  
Octavia heard the smile in her mother’s voice and she could see through the floor that Aurora pushed her shirt completely off, and then unhooked her bra and put that aside too. “Not yet you’re not,” she said. “But you will be.”  
  
“What do you want for it?” he asked her, and his voice sounded as weird as her mother’s- thick and gravelly- when he said it.  
  
“What will you give me?” Aurora countered, stepping close to him, taking his hands and placing them firmly on her breasts.  
  
“Oh God… uh… I don’t know, what’s the going rate?”  
  
Octavia felt a bit sick to her stomach, not liking the way the man rolled her mother’s breasts in his hands, or the way he spoke to her. When she saw Aurora start to undo her pants too, she closed her eyes, but she still felt queasy.  
  
“Fifty ration points,” Aurora said.  
  
There was a short pause, and then he said, “Screw you. Forty.”  
  
Another short pause, and then her mother’s voice, “Deal.”  
  
Octavia kept her eyes shut, even when they moved away and she knew they wouldn't be able to hear her anymore. “God, these bunks are tiny,” the inspector complained. “What about the table?”  
  
“Wherever you want,” Aurora answered, her voice somewhat flat.  
  
“Bend over.”  
  
Then there was no more talking, only the sounds of their table straining under a weight, the sounds of movement, the guard’s voice, his heavy breathing and groaning that sounded very much like a monster. But the worst part was the foreign voice that she knew came from her mother’s lips, not saying words but letting out moans and sighs and grunts.  
  
Afterward, the inspector left, and Octavia didn’t dare say anything or even move as she waited for her mother to lift up the panel. Instead, she heard Aurora’s footsteps go to the bathroom and a few moments later, the shower started running.  
  
When the front door opened, she was scared the frightening monster inspector was back, but it was Bellamy, and he immediately ran to the panel and pulled it up, helping her out of the hole.  
  
Immediately she started crying, clinging to him. The room smelled of sweat and something else, an acrid smell that scared her and made her want to vomit.  
  
“What happened?” he asked her urgently, holding her tight, stroking her hair to help her calm down. “Did they see you?”  
  
“No, worse,” she whispered, trying not to sob so she could tell him. “The inspector- he turned into a monster, and then he made Mommy turn into a monster too.” She pulled back from him and looked up into his confused face. “Did you know, Bell? Did you know that Mommy could be a monster?”  
  
He shook his head in confusion and held her cheeks in his hands, searching her eyes. Finally he said softly, “Mom’s not a monster, O.” He hugged her again. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Come on, I brought dinner.”  
  
Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the table where he’d put down their meal, but she balked and shook her head, backing away from him. “No, I’m not hungry.”  
  
“O, you need to eat,” he urged her.  
  
She pulled her hand away. “No, I’m not hungry, my tummy hurts…” She felt her stomach doing flips and she wrapped her arms around it. “I’m going to puke.”  
  
“Okay, hold on.” Bellamy tugged her by the hand to the bathroom and pounded on the door. “Mom, Octavia’s going to be sick!”  
  
The water shut off and Aurora opened the door, standing there wrapped in a towel. Bellamy pushed Octavia inside, and just as she went past them, she caught a complicated look pass between her mother and brother- Aurora looked defensive, while Bellamy looked suspicious. But she wasn’t sure why.  
  
Before she could dwell anymore on that, she felt her stomach lurch and she leaned over the toilet, unloading all her fear in big chunks. She heard Bellamy leave, shutting the door behind him, but she was only brave enough to turn her eyes to her mother’s feet. Even after she vomited, although she felt better, she still couldn’t bring herself to look Aurora in the face. She was so scared to see a monster looking through her mother’s eyes.  
  
Aurora stood near the door, not speaking for a long moment. Then she said, very quietly, “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Octavia.”  
  
Finally she looked up, but it was only her mother’s face- the same one she always had, without any sign of the monster from before. “But what happened?” she whispered, still trying to make sense of all she’d seen and heard. “What was going _on,_ Mommy?”  
  
Aurora knelt down and opened her arms, and Octavia stepped into her embrace, clinging to her, pressing her nose into the curve of her neck. Softly her mother said to her, “You’re never going to know the answer to that question. Nothing like that will ever be part of your life. And you are so, _so_ lucky that’s true.”  
  
But Octavia didn’t feel lucky at all.

 


	23. 23- Bellamy

It was Wednesday- his favourite day since he and Everly had started spending it in her quarters, after they grew tired of hiding under the floor of Mecha Station. He had told Octavia and his mother that he had an after-school study class, which Aurora had agreed to because she didn’t want any chance of bad grades jeopardising his becoming a guard. But in truth, every Wednesday Bellamy walked hand-in-hand from school to Everly’s quarters, his head held high.  
  
At fourteen, Bellamy was still gangly but he was also broadening out, his shoulders wider, his arms more muscular. Part of being a guard was being strong, so in addition to his fake study class on Wednesdays, he was also home late Mondays and Fridays, where he spent a couple of hours in the gym to bulk up. His strengthening body plus his hand in Everly’s had shut off the teasing of the other kids, and that had helped Bellamy’s confidence rise even more.  
  
Once in her quarters, Everly took him straight to her bedroom where they always hung out for the three hours before he had to go home. Although Everly’s parents did know about her dating Bellamy, Aurora had no idea that their relationship had changed so much. She knew that Everly had been his crush for a long time, but that was it- after all, she believed she knew where he spent every second of his life.  
  
They sat together on her bed and kissed. Bellamy had grown much more confidence over the past couple of months, and they had long since graduated from chaste but thrilling brushes of lips against lips to completely making out, their tongues swirling around one another. Bellamy had gotten better, too, at controlling his reactions, no longer humiliated by unpredictable erections. It didn’t mean he never got hard during these make-out sessions- he definitely did- but it wasn’t so unwelcome nor did it catch him so off-guard.  
  
“I still can’t believe I’ve never set foot in your quarters,” she said in between kisses, the times when they both needed to breathe. It wasn’t the first time she’d said that.  
  
“I know, but trust me, they’re tiny and cramped… it wouldn’t be any fun.”  
  
“I can kiss you anywhere, Bellamy,” she said with a giggle. “It can’t be any worse than our hiding place under the floor.”  
  
He laughed a little and stroked his hand through her black hair, feeling the satiny curtain of it slide through his fingers. “In my quarters, my mom and I sleep in bunks cut into the wall- one on top of the other,” he told her. “I’m too tall to even sit up in mine properly.”  
  
Everly made a face, and then her dark eyes seemed to twinkle with an idea and she scooted closer to him, hooking one leg over him and settling her body into his lap. Bellamy swallowed a little, his hands automatically settling onto her hips. She felt amazing this close, her sweet smell overtaking him, his fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt to stroke her skin- he couldn’t believe how soft it was.  
  
One of her hands rose to grip the back of his shoulder, and her other stroked his cheek before pulling him in for another deep kiss. Bellamy could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, and he could hardly believe how good that felt.  
  
He felt himself stirring, growing hard against her, and he pulled back from her lips, blushing a little. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be,” she whispered, her breath warm against his face as she kissed him again. “I like it.”  
  
His breath hitched as those words made him grow even harder. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his hands growing braver and sliding under her shirt, stroking up and down the small of her back, her silken skin.  
  
Everly pulled back from his lips and leaned a little away from him. He frowned, not sure why she’d stopped, but then she reached down and grasped the hem of her shirt in her hands, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside before pressing even closer to him, kissing him deeply again.  
  
“Bellamy,” she whispered, her voice warm and thick. “Take off your shirt.”  
  
He couldn’t get it off fast enough.  
  
Now he could feel not only the tops of her breasts against his skin, so soft and supple, but also the lace of her bra. The knowledge that this flimsy piece of fabric was the only thing keeping him from seeing her breasts- touching them, even- made him kiss her hungrily, his arms wrapping around her. He loved the feeling of so much bare skin pressed together, of her tongue in his mouth.  
  
Then she started rolling her hips against him, and he thought he was going to explode right then. He broke away from her lips, seizing her waist in his hands, slowing her movements. He pressed his forehead into hers and whispered, “Wait.”  
  
“I’ve _been_ waiting,” she answered, with a sly little grin. Her eyes were so dark that he could barely see her pupils.  
  
Bellamy swallowed and kissed her again. Now he was rock-hard against her, and he wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of her skin under his. But he was also nervous- beyond making out, he’d never done anything. But he knew she hadn’t either, and that made it a little less scary.  
  
Everly backed off his lap and tugged on his hand, pulling him down beside her on the bed. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he lay down, sliding his hand into the small of her back and pulling her against him.  
  
“Our pants too,” she suggested, sounding shy for the first time. She reached down and unbuttoned hers, shimmying out of them. Bellamy swallowed, his hand shaking a little as he did the same. There was hardly anything between them now, and he felt Everly tremble a little against him as she pressed close again.  
  
“Are you cold?” he asked, leaning up on an elbow and grabbing the blanket, pulling it up over them.  
  
She smiled softly at him and reached up, stroking his hair. “You’re such a gentleman.” Her fingers tucked into the back of his neck and pulled him down to her lips, nudging him with her hip to shift him on top of her. He felt her legs wrap around him, and it took all his self-control not to give in to the incredible pleasure.  
  
He pulled in deep breaths, pressing his forehead against hers, struggling to calm himself down so this wouldn’t be over before it even started. Everly grinned and trailed her fingers over his back, making him shiver. In turn he stroked a hand across her breasts, hardly believing how soft they felt even through the fabric.  
  
“You can take it off if you want to,” she whispered.  
  
He definitely wanted to.  
  
His hands fumbled a little, but he managed to unhook the three little eyelets and she pulled her arms through the straps before throwing the bra aside. For a moment he just gazed down at her, fascinated by the beautiful swells of her breasts, the way her nipples were pleated into peaks.  
  
“Do you like them?” she whispered, sounding shy.  
  
He nodded, tearing his eyes away to look into hers. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I really like them.”  
  
She giggled and said, “Then _do_ something with them.”  
  
Bellamy blushed, but he needed no more encouragement than that, as he smoothed his hands along the surface of them, lightly at first, then more firmly, squeezing gently. The soft gasps she let out made him feel like a king.  
  
Growing bolder, he leaned down and captured one of her nipples with his mouth, kissing it softly, swirling his tongue around and around. He felt one of her hands grip his hair tightly as her breath caught, but she wasn’t trying to push him away- she held him there, obviously liking everything he was doing, and he was eager to make her feel good. He kept at it, only moving to switch to the other breast, lavishing attention on that one as she let out little sighs.  
  
Suddenly he felt her hand on him, through his boxers, gripping him tightly. His eyes flew open and he gasped- her hand felt a thousand times better than his own ever did, and she wasn't even touching his skin. He felt himself twitch in her grip, and then he let out a throaty moan.  
  
He broke away from her breasts and kissed her again, his hand trailing down her stomach and between her legs. The fabric of her underwear was wet under his touch, and he stroked her a little, really not sure what he was doing but just wanting to feel her. He adjusted the movement of his fingers based on her reaction, concentrating in places that made her gasp.  
  
After a little while she let go of him, then pushed him away from her too, and his heart sank- he was positive he’d done something wrong. He looked into her eyes, his own full of questions.  
  
Softly, Everly smiled at him, shaking her head. “That was good,” she said. “Don’t worry. I was just going to say…” She trailed off, stroking her fingers over his nipples, which grew as hard as hers- though far less impressive.  
  
“Yeah?” he whispered, when it didn’t seem like she was going to go on.  
  
Instead of answering him, she grabbed the waist of his boxers in her hand and tugged, pulling them down his hips and watching him spring upward, finally freed from the confines of that last piece of clothing. Bellamy watched her eyes grow wide as she looked down at him, just gazing at him for a long moment, and then her soft fingers were curling around him.  
  
The feeling was totally overwhelming- better than any fantasy- and Bellamy only lasted about three strokes before he felt himself spasm, trembling into her hand as he moaned with the absolute ecstasy of it.  
  
When he settled back down to Earth he felt himself blush, realising he’d made a mess on her thigh and that he’d barely lasted thirty seconds. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  
  
But Everly just smiled at him and shook her head. “It’s okay.”  
  
Bellamy grabbed his boxers and cleaned himself up, folding them over to a dry part to gently wipe off her leg. “Sorry,” he said again, his cheeks flaming.  
  
Her face softened. “Hey, seriously, stop saying that.” She held his face in her hands. “It means you liked it- that _was_ my goal, you know.”  
  
“Yeah but-”  
  
Everly cut him off with a deep kiss, grabbing his hand and placing it on her breast. That shut him up, and he just kissed her back, massaging her breast with his fingers. When he finally had to pull away to breathe, he was a lot less embarrassed, and he smiled softly at her. “What about you? I want to make you feel that good too.”  
  
“Then touch me,” she whispered, kissing him again. Once more he trailed his hand down her stomach- how were girls so soft?- and then between her legs. But this time, emboldened by her encouragement, he pushed her underwear off and curled his fingers between her legs.  
  
He felt the heat of her, and she let out a soft moan, opening her legs to him. As soon as his fingers stroked past her tangle of curls, he was amazed at how silky-soft she was, so wet and warm. It felt like heaven.  
  
Everly was quick to direct him, telling him where to touch her, how to stroke her, the rhythm she liked, the amount of pressure. He appreciated her every instruction, wanting to make her feel as incredible as she’d just made him. He cradled her in the crook of his arm, watched her breasts, how they trembled as she arched her back. He loved the way her hands grabbed at the sheets as she gasped, tossing her head from side to side, her hair spilling over the pillow.  
  
Bellamy thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful.  
  
He heard her breathing catch, her sighs growing louder, and he knew he was making her feel incredible. Everything he did to her, every little moan and gasp he elicited from her lips, made him feel excited, tingly with anticipation, with the knowledge that he was doing this. He was enjoying this more than he’d enjoyed his own orgasm. His fingers slid easily now, as she grew wetter and wetter, and he knew it wouldn’t be long.  
  
She grabbed at him, pulling him closer, kissing him deeply, her every breath a singular reward. He felt her body trembling all over but he didn’t stop, he just kept going, watching her face, inhaling the rich scent of her, heady and intoxicating. He saw the moment when it became too much, and then the moment she went higher- her eyes flew open as she pulled in one last ragged breath, the tremors in her limbs suddenly stopping as she let out a scream. He caught it with his lips in case someone should hear them, not used to such an outburst, but he kept stroking her for as long as her hips rose to meet his caresses, stopping only when she covered his hand with hers and pulled it away.  
  
He folded her into her arms, tucked the blanket around them both, and kissed her tenderly, each of their chests heaving a little from a mixture of exertion, nerves, and overwhelming pleasure.  
  
Bellamy leaned his cheek against the top of her head and felt his eyelids growing heavy, felt himself drifting. He was so happy, so tired, so comfortable, but he worried about someone coming in and finding them like this.  
  
“No one will be home for a while,” she whispered to him, as if reading his mind. She curled herself into his body. “I want to cuddle you.”  
  
He nodded, pressing his lips briefly to her hair as he held her close, and even if he’d wanted to stay awake he knew he never could have.  
  
  
  
When he finally woke, it was to the sound of an alarm- Everly must have set one, in anticipation of her parents’ return. She propped herself up on an elbow, silencing it, before smiling down at him, trailing her fingers through his curls. “Sleep well?”  
  
“Very,” he agreed, flashing her a grin. They kissed for a little while, but his body was still sluggish and lethargic from earlier, so although the kissing was nice, there was no risk of it starting something up again.  
  
“You should go,” she said with obvious regret. “My parents will be home in half an hour.”  
  
He bolted upright. “What time is it?”  
  
“Almost nine,” she said, obviously surprised by his suddenly outburst.  
  
He was nearly _three hours late.  
  
_ Scrambling for his clothes, he started to haul them on, his heart pounding in his chest. “I have to go,” he said, shaking his head, internally berating himself for allowing that nap, allowing himself to relax like that. “I’m so late.”  
  
“You told me your mom works till like midnight on Wednesdays,” she protested, reaching for her own clothes and pulling them on. “What’s the rush? She’ll never know.”  
  
Bellamy just shook his head, shoving his feet into his boots and lacing it up hurriedly. “I'm such an _idiot,”_ he said, and the anger in his voice was obvious- anger at himself, at how he’d let this happen.  
  
Everly misinterpreted that anger as being for her and her eyes filled with tears. “Why? Do you… regret this?”  
  
He cringed. “No,” he said. “Of course not, that’s not what I meant.”  
  
“Then what?” she asked, relaxing just a little but still clearly upset. She reached for him, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Please just stay a little longer.”  
  
“I have to go home,” he answered, shaking his head.  
  
Everly frowned. “Wait, Bellamy, stay here and talk to me,” she said, letting go of his hand. “Come on, you can’t just run away in the middle of a fight.”  
  
He gritted his teeth, but again he shook his head. “I’m not, but I _have_ to go home. You don’t understand. My mother-”  
  
“Oh, I’m so _sick_ of your mother!” she snapped, and he could see the pain flash through her eyes. “I’ve never even met her and she’s totally ruining this. Do you know how hard it is to like you, Bellamy, when you’re always blowing me off?”  
  
He felt guilty, but he just couldn't explain. “Everly… it’s not that. I _want_ to be here with you,” he assured her. “Trust me- I do, and if I could stay here I would, but I’m already really late. I have to go.” He turned for the door.  
  
“If you leave now, then we might as well break up,” she snapped, stopping him in his tracks, catching him off-guard. “What’s the point, Bellamy? I only get one day a week with you anyway.”  
  
He slowly turned back to her and he could see that underneath her anger she was hurt- really hurt. Is this what his mother had meant, when she’d told him that men could hurt women’s hearts with their bodies? Is that what he’d just done? Was he becoming one of _those_ men?  
  
“Everly…” He trailed off, shaking his head, feeling absolutely torn. “I _have_ to go. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I _do._ But I can’t right now, and I also can’t explain why. You just have to trust me.”  
  
She watched him for a long moment, and then she shook her head. Softly, bitterly, she whispered, “I don’t.”  
  
That hurt so bad, those two simple words, but he just closed his eyes tight and let out a long breath before leaving her there.  
  
He made the journey from Mecha to Factory faster than he would have ever thought possible, hurrying to his door and letting himself into his quarters.  
  
His mother and sister were sitting at the little table. Octavia’s face lit up when she saw him, but Aurora’s hand shot out and gripped her arm, stopping her from standing up and going to him. His mother’s face was rigid, her jaw tighter than he’d ever seen it, her eyes practically on fire as she turned them on him.  
  
“Where. _Were._ You?” she bit out. Her voice was deadly calm.  
  
“I'm sorry, I…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. Finally he finished, “I was late. Study class ran over.”  
  
He saw Octavia cringe, and he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Aurora stood up, shoving the chair back so hard that it clattered, but her eyes didn’t leave his face. “Don’t you _dare_ lie to me another second. I went to your school and talked to the teacher- you’ve _never_ been in study class, not once in the two  _months_ you’ve said you were going there.”  
  
“Mom-”  
  
“Do you know how _hard_ it was to arrange things so you could go to that class? Do you know how many _favours_ I had to do to get my schedule changed so I could be here for Octavia while you went to that class? Do you know how difficult it was to get the night off so I could _wait_ for you when you didn’t come home today?”  
  
He felt sick to his stomach, like vomiting, and one look at Octavia told him that she felt much the same. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his sister and comfort them both.  
  
_“Look_ at me when I’m talking to you, Bellamy Blake,” Aurora growled.  
  
Tearing his eyes away from Octavia, he forced himself to do what his mother said. “Mom-”  
  
“Tell me where you were this _instant,”_ she cut him off, her words like ice.  
  
He just stood there for a long moment, and then he shook his head. “I can’t.”  
  
_“What_ did you say?”  
  
Resisting the urge to squirm under her gaze he said again, “I can’t.”  
  
“Bell-”  
  
“Not a word, Octavia,” Aurora snapped, but she never took her eyes off her son. “Were you with that girl?” The surprise must have been obvious on his face, because she let out a laugh with absolutely no humour and said, “So that’s it? You leave your sister all alone once a week so you can spend time with a _girl?”  
  
_ The way she said that, he felt so selfish, so heartless, like he didn’t care about Octavia. But he did- more than anything. He hadn’t stayed out so late on purpose; why couldn’t his mother see that? “Mom, I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“Did you _mean_ to lie to me about study class?” she snapped. She had him there. He said nothing, eyes on the floor. Her next exhale sounded disgusted and he looked up at her, seeing the absolute disappointment on her face as she said, “I don’t even know what to do with you.”  
  
“Look, we fell asleep, okay!” he yelled suddenly, needing to say _something,_ needing her not to look at him like that. “It was an accident.”  
  
Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “Octavia, go to the bathroom.”  
  
“But I don’t have to,” she protested, but all their mother had to do was wheel around and glare at her to make her face drain of colour. She sprang from her chair and ran into the other room, closing the door behind her.  
  
_“Don’t_ scare her like that,” Bellamy snapped.  
  
“Sit down,” his mother countered. _“Now.”  
  
_ He did, angrily. So did she, both of them crashing into their seats in fury, their tempers matched as they glared at one another. Now that he was fourteen, Bellamy had very recently noticed that he’d grown taller than her- but at the table, they could glower at each other eye-to-eye.  
  
“What do you want me to say?” he asked finally, when he couldn’t stand the loaded silence anymore.  
  
“Did you have _sex_ with that girl?” she asked, keeping her voice low.  
  
“That’s none of your business,” he answered defensively. “I didn’t hurt her.”  
  
His mother seemed to soften just the tiniest bit, her eyes falling to the table. “Bellamy…” She trailed off, falling silent, shaking her head.  
  
“What?” he demanded. “Huh? Don’t you want to yell at me some more?”  
  
When she looked at him again, the tears in her eyes surprised him. Softly she said, “You can’t lie to me like that, Bellamy. And you can’t choose that girl- _any_ girl- over your sister.”  
  
“I wouldn't,” he growled, clenching a fist at the accusation. “I told you, it was an accident.”  
  
_“Yes,_ but if you were putting Octavia _first_ like you’re supposed to, that _accident_ wouldn’t have happened.”  
  
He let out a sharp breath of frustration. “I fell asleep. It happens.”  
  
“And what if I’d gone to work as planned? She’d have been going crazy, waiting for you, worried about where you were- she already _was._ Or what if there’d been an inspection I didn’t know about? What if you’d come back home and found guards in here- with me dead and your sister gone? What _then,_ Bellamy? Would putting this girl first today be worth _that?”_  
  
He shoved himself to his feet and kicked his chair, sending it crashing into the opposite wall, where it toppled over with a clang. “Goddammit, I put Octavia first every second of every day of my entire _life!”_ he yelled at his mother, advancing on her, leaning down to glare into her face, slamming his hand down on the table. “I just wanted this _one thing_ for me! So help me God, Mom, is that so terrible?!”  
  
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed, but it was the tremor in hers that silenced him. He looked at her and saw that there was actual fear on her face, in her eyes.  
  
It hit him like a fist- the realisation that he’d _scared_ her- that he was capable of that, even if it was just a little. That his deep voice of anger and his chair flinging into the wall and his fist banging on the table had frightened her- like he really was becoming one of _them,_ one of _those_ men. Like Octavia’s father, or the guards who talked to his mother like she was nothing. He backed away a little, swallowing. “Mom, I’m sorry… okay? I’m sorry.”  
  
There was a charged moment of silence, and then she stood up and forced a smile, putting her hands on his shoulders and patting them gently. “It’s fine. If I go now I can still do half my shift. I’ll see you in the morning.” She briefly cupped his cheek in one of her hands and then said, “We’ll talk about this again later.”  
  
Bellamy said nothing in response, he just watched her go, watched the door close behind her with a soft click. Then he drew in a deep breath, letting it out shakily before he crossed to the other side of the room and righted his chair, placing it gently under the table again.  
  
He found Octavia huddled on the floor in the shower, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked up at him, tears streaking her face, and he said nothing, he just knelt down in front of her and let her throw herself into his arms.  
  
Something in his chest loosened as he held her and he closed his eyes, leaning his face into her hair and breathing in the comforting familiarity of her scent.  
  
“I’m sorry, Bell,” she whispered, clutching at him.  
  
He pulled back a little, surprised, frowning at her, searching her eyes. “What for?”  
  
“That you have to put me first every second of every day of your entire life,” she said, her voice catching and trembling by the end of the sentence.  
  
His heart broke. He pulled her close to him again and shook his head. “Octavia… I didn’t mean that.”  
  
“But it’s true,” she whispered, sniffling.  
  
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m supposed to put you first.”  
  
“But if I’d never been born-”  
  
“Hey.” He pulled back abruptly and seized her shoulders, looking firmly into her eyes. “Don’t you _ever_ say that- don’t even think it. I’m serious, O.”  
  
She pulled in gulping breaths, but nodded her head. He picked her up and carried her back into the other room, laying her down on his bunk and then climbing up beside her. He barely needed the ladder now, just using the bottom rung to spring off of. The little bunk was cramped for two, but Octavia snuggled as close to him as she could, her back pressed against the wall. Bellamy wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. Even once she was asleep, she clung to him.  
  
The next day at school, he found out that Everly’s threat- to break up if he walked out on her in the middle of that fight- had been an empty one. It didn’t matter though. As soon as he was able to get her alone, he told her it was over.


	24. 24- Octavia

It was her birthday, and the whole day had been about her- Bellamy had played every game she loved, they’d skipped his homework, and Aurora had saved up rations to get her favourite meal. After their mother had gone to work, Bellamy looked at her and said softly, “You know, next year you’ll be double digits. That’s pretty cool.”  
  
But Octavia was feeling melancholy, as she often did on her birthday, when people made a big fuss but then still had to go and do normal stuff that didn’t include her. Softly she said, “Yeah.”  
  
Bellamy seemed to pick up on her flat tone and he frowned, watching her face. She could feel the sadness in her heart and in her body, her shoulders a bit slumped, and she knew her brother could see it too.  
  
“Hey, O, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder.  
  
She didn’t mean to, but she shrugged away from his touch. She stood up from the table and walked away from him, leaning her forehead against the cool metal wall, under the clock. “Nothing.”  
  
“Are you going to lie to me?” She could hear the concern in his voice. “On your birthday?”  
  
“Who _cares_ if it’s my birthday?” she countered. “It doesn’t even matter.”  
  
“Hey, of course it matters.” She heard his chair push back from the table, and then his presence beside her- though he didn’t touch her. She opened her eyes and saw his boots close to hers, and reluctantly she looked up into his face. His expression was concerned, pained even.  
  
“Bell… I’m never getting out of here,” she whispered. “Even though I’m nine now. Even when I’m a hundred, I’ll still be in this room.”  
  
“No you _won’t,”_ he said, vehement.  
  
“So I’ll be trapped in your slightly bigger guard quarters,” she said softly.  
  
Bellamy cringed a little and sighed, shaking his head. “Octavia… come on.”  
  
She pushed herself back from the wall, kicking at it a little as she’d seen him do many times. Glaring at him she demanded, “But what am I supposed to _do,_ Bell? Why did Mommy even _have_ me? What’s the _point?”_ She’d been struggling so much with those questions lately, privately, and she knew it was unfair to unleash them on him now with no warning- but she couldn’t help it.  
  
“There isn’t a _point,”_ he countered, obviously frustrated but trying not to be. Ever since his fight with their mother about some girl, Bellamy had grown short-tempered and irritable, and she hated it. “There wasn’t a _point_ to her having me either, she just did. That’s what people _do,_ O, they have babies.”  
  
“But not us, right?” she retorted, stalking across the room- she didn’t know if his short temper was rubbing off on her, or if that’s just what happened when you turned nine.  
  
She wanted so badly to _go_ somewhere, _do_ something, but she couldn’t- no matter which way she walked, her feet only had a couple of metres of steps before they met the resistance of this wall or that.  
  
Bellamy let out his breath, long. “What do you want me to say?”  
  
She stopped walking, clenched her fists. Her lower lip trembled but she bit down on it to stop it, before turning her head to look at him. He seemed so small, so lost, so angry, and she knew she was doing that.  
  
“What would you have wanted, Bell?” she asked him, suddenly needing very much to know the answer to that question. “If you could have chosen… would you have chosen _this?”_  
  
“Octavia, please don’t,” Bellamy said, shaking his head, rubbing his forehead between his thumb and forefinger. He sounded tired, deflated. As depressed as she felt.  
  
“Please, Bell,” she whispered, hearing her voice catch. “It’s my birthday, so I can have whatever I want. And I want you to answer this question- would you have chosen this life?  
  
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then his posture softened and he walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking down into her eyes. She felt her own fill with tears, though she blinked them away. Firmly he said, “I would always choose _you.”_  
  
It had been a loaded question, and he’d given an equally loaded response. Dissatisfied, Octavia shrugged out from under his hands and shook her head. “I’m never going to have a real life, Bell. I’m never going to have _anything.”_  
  
“What do you want?” he asked her, and the vulnerability in his voice was hard to take. “Tell me, and I’ll do everything I can to give it to you.”  
  
This time she couldn’t hold back her tears, and she started crying, burying her face in her hands, wishing she could stop it. “You can’t,” she cried, soft but forlorn. “You can’t give me anything I want.”  
  
She didn't even know what she wanted, not fully, just not _this-_ this room’s four walls, no hope of ever getting out, no future- nothing. She sobbed and sobbed, everything just feeling too big, too horrible, in that moment.  
  
“Octavia,” her brother whispered, and she felt his arms closing around her, but she twisted away from him.  
  
“Don’t _touch_ me, Bell!” she snapped, though she actually wished he would hold her, even at the same time that she wanted him to leave her alone. It was an impossible mixture of feelings, ones she didn’t know how to manage.  
  
There was a short silence, and then Bellamy went over to their mother’s bunk and sat down on the mattress. She watched him run a hand through his curls, and it was obvious he didn’t know how to deal with her feelings anymore than she did. Somehow that made everything worse, because he was supposed to know _everything._ She just cried harder, still quiet but her breaths thickening, more tears cascading down her cheeks.  
  
When it seemed like she wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon, Bellamy tried again, his voice tender but hesitant, as though he feared her rejection again. “O… please.”  
  
She pulled in a ragged breath, choked on a sob, and ran to him, climbing onto his lap and wrapping her arms and legs around him, turning her head to lay it on his shoulder. He shifted a little then held her close, enveloping her in his arms, rubbing a hand over her back soothingly as he whispered, “Shshsh, it’s okay.”  
  
But it wasn’t. She felt terrible and wretched and confused, like her whole life was awful and nothing could ever- _would_ ever- get better.  
  
It took her a long time to calm, much longer than usual. Bellamy held her the whole time, murmuring to her, rubbing her back, trying to soothe her as best he could. He always did his best, tried so hard for her, and she knew that. But she still couldn’t help it, wanting to push him further, find that secret part of him that she believed must exist- the part that hated her. The part that would choose differently, if it could.  
  
Once she’d let out all her grief for her own situation pour out of her, she cried all over again for the pain of his predicament, the guilt at being responsible for his own imprisonment.  
  
“Why don’t you hate me?” she asked at one point, barely able to get the words out around her tears.  
  
“What?” He sounded completely confused, at a loss, and sad. “Octavia, I could never hate you.”  
  
“You should though,” she sobbed, her voice hitching on every word. “I ruined your life, Bell. You should hate me.” Even though she was addressing those words to him, they were directed at herself, and she wanted him to argue, tell her she was wrong, that he could never feel that way, that she hadn’t ruined his life.

Even though she knew that she had.  
  
Bellamy didn’t disappoint her though, he pulled her even closer, cradling her against his chest, and he said firmly, “Listen to me, O. I could _never_ hate you. I will _never_ hate you. No matter what you say, I’m never going to hate you. So don’t bother.”  
  
She pulled in a deep breath to calm herself down, and let it out shakily into his shoulder. She could feel his heart pounding, through his chest and into hers. He felt warm, their stomachs pressed together. His shoulders were strong, his arms around her the safest thing she knew. She leaned back a little, just enough to look into his eyes, and she raised a hand, tracing his freckles with her fingertips.  
  
“I love you, big brother,” she whispered, watching the way those words softened his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, caused his arms to squeeze her gently, and his lips to release a long breath of relief.  
  
He put a hand in the small of her back and ducked his head, laying down into their mother’s bunk and pulling her with them. They ended up on their sides, facing each other. She tucked her ankle between his and buried her face in his chest as he reached down to pull the blankets over them.  
  
“Is there nothing you want?” he asked softly, his voice so close, barely more than warm breath in her ear. “It is your birthday, O… you can have anything. Anything I can give you.”  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heart. Internally, she put aside all the things she could not have. She put aside every hope and dream that led her outside these four walls, and just focused on him, what he _could_ give her. Finally she opened her eyes again and looked up at him.  
  
“The Ark,” she whispered. “I want to see the Ark, Bell.”  
  
He started to frown, but then she lifted her eyebrows to remind him of what she really meant- the tour he’d devised years ago, the one they’d revisited at least once every few months for years, the story that had kept her cravings for the outside at bay until she felt she’d grown out of it. It had been a while since she’d asked, but belatedly he got it, seeming to read her mind as his frown transformed into a sly smile and he nodded. “You want a pony ride tour or a bedtime tour?”  
  
“Bedtime,” she answered immediately, pushing herself closer to him so he couldn’t even think of letting her go.  
  
He cleared his throat, moving his hips away from her just a little, but he kept his arms around her. “Close your eyes, O,” he said gently.  
  
Tingling with anticipation, she did. For a moment there was silence, and then he began, his voice a soft rumble as he started the tour. She listened to his tone, his inflection, the care with which he crafted his words, describing to her what she’d see when she left their quarters, the corridors they’d go down, the views from the windows, the rooms they would visit- every facet, every detail.  
  
Slowly, as he spoke and the words washed over her and his heart beat its steady rhythm under her cheek, she relaxed, feeling herself calming, the sadness not exactly disappearing but not so central anymore either.  
  
She knew that for Bellamy, these stories represented a glimpse into the future, when she really would roam free on the Ark, be able to see all the things he described. It was a lovely idea, but not one that Octavia believed anymore. For her, these tours were like all his other stories- fantastical and fun, exciting and intriguing, but not real. Never real.  
  
This room, or whatever rooms her brother might get once he was a guard, were all she would ever know. Her existence would always be small, invisible. But even though it made Octavia sad, life had awarded her a consolation prize- Bellamy. His love, his arms around her, his stories in the night… they were the things that made her get out of bed in the morning. They were the things keeping her alive.


	25. 25- Bellamy

Standing in a supply closet after school, Bellamy’s thigh was pressed against the hip of a girl whose name he couldn’t remember. With her skirt around her ankles and his fingers buried inside her, he couldn't exactly ask, but with her hand around him, stroking him faster and faster, he didn’t care to either. She was pretty in a plain kind of way, and hot with her head thrown back, her lips slightly parted, letting out tiny gasps. He grunted and moaned his encouragement with every flick of her wrist, and judging by her sounds and the tremble of her body against his, he knew that she was enjoying herself just as much as he was.  
  
Bellamy had grown proficient at being two people.  
  
At home, with Octavia and his mother, he was still the good son, the good brother, the good parent, the good student. In the rest of the Ark, he was getting in fights- away from school, where no one would catch him- and he was taking girl after girl into supply closets and service hatches and empty sections to fool around. When things got too intense at home, letting someone get him off was the quickest way to calm himself down, and it was so easy. Since he’d adopted a dangerous, uncaring façade, the girls all fell at his feet. He was no longer bullied, but envied by the other boys. He’d discovered that, paradoxically, treating girls like queens did nothing to further his sex life. Treating them like he couldn’t care less about them though- that was what got them naked. He didn't exactly like that, but he didn't have any time for making them feel special either.  
  
Bellamy still hadn’t technically had sex, though he frequently did everything else. He didn’t know why he wasn’t going over that line, but for some reason he just didn’t want to. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really met anyone since Everly that made him want that- or at least, he hadn’t let himself get to know anyone long enough to have any feelings about them one way or another. He wasn’t cruel, but he certainly wasn’t looking to get serious.  
  
He knew, now, that a girlfriend was something he could never have. So he’d added it to the long list of things he could never have, and moved on. But there was no way he was going to put this kind of thing on that list. He seemed to need it more and more, and while he could do the trick himself if need be, that was boring, and he always had to worry about being quiet and secretive so Octavia wouldn’t overhear or see something. He much preferred someone else to kiss and touch while he was in turn kissed and touched. There was no emotion in the act itself, but he always felt much calmer after it was done.  
  
Now, standing in this supply closet, palm-deep in a girl he really didn’t know, he started to feel himself building up to an incredible orgasm, and he knew it was going to be good, that he was going to sleep well after this. He increased the tempo of his hand, wanting to finish her off with him, knowing he didn’t have much time before he’d have to get home.  
  
The girl gasped, her face falling against his shoulder, and he heard her moan softly as her body shook against his. He buried his own face in her hair, but she had way too much product in it and smelled disgusting. So he just turned his head, focusing on the feeling of her hand around him, the rhythmic stroking, and he felt himself crash over the edge, releasing into her hand. He kept his fingers going and it only took a few more thrusts before she collapsed against him, whimpering.  
  
Bellamy pulled his hand back and wiped it on the hem of his shirt, then tucked himself back into his pants. The girl blushed and glanced away, taking a tissue from her back pocket and wiping her own hand off, looking embarrassed. This was always the part Bellamy hated- the after, the weird small talk, the awkwardness.  
  
“That was nice,” he assured her. “Thanks.”  
  
“Thanks?” she repeated, frowning at him.  
  
He resisted the urge to sigh, and instead kissed her, which made her smile again. “I’ve got to go home… I’ll see you around.” He turned for the door.  
  
“Wait, um- do you want to hang out tomorrow after school?”  
  
Bellamy stopped and looked at her, forcing a smile and then shaking his head. “No, I’m busy.”  
  
“Okay, what about the day after?”  
  
“I’m actually, like, really busy,” he told her. “I’m studying for the cadet entrance exam.” It was true, but it was also true he’d been studying since he was ten years old. “I have to go.”  
  
“Okay,” she said quietly, and then he left her there, hurrying through the corridors back to his quarters.  
  
As always, Octavia was waiting for him. But the ten minutes or so he was late was worth it- now he could focus totally on his sister, and not be complicated and troubled by sexual thoughts while he was playing with her, or doing his homework with her pressed into his lap.  
  
It wasn’t that he thought about _her_ that way- but his hormones were out of control, and without regular satisfaction, his feelings and urges would creep into every facet of his life. Octavia’s lack of any boundaries whatsoever made that more likely to end awkwardly. This way, he kept his two worlds totally separate.  
  
Maybe the girls he picked up suffered some hurt feelings, but so what? He was doing this for Octavia, just like he did everything else in the world for her. And he never misled those girls into thinking he was looking for anything more than those few minutes of pleasure.  
  
No, his heart belonged only to this one girl, with her impish grin and wise blue eyes- he’d been stupid to ever try to give it to someone else.  
  
“Why are you so quiet?” Octavia demanded, nudging him.  
  
“Thinking about math,” he lied, tapping the tablet in front of them. “Do you know the answer to number sixteen?”  
  
She grabbed the tablet and frowned down at the screen. He watched her, the way her mind worked, feeling a rush of pride and love- she was so smart, doing his homework with him all these years, very nearly keeping up with him even as she did things the schools considered her six years too young for.  
  
Octavia pulled up the calculator, pressing a few buttons. “Is it… thirty-six over eighty-five?” she asked, showing him the screen.  
  
Bellamy swapped screens to check the answer and shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re better at trig than I am.”  
  
She beamed and shrugged. “I like triangles.”  
  
He shut off the tablet and said, “Well I don’t, and I’m bored. Let’s do something else.”  
  
“Okay, what?”  
  
That was the question. Most of her toys had lost her interest after years of play, and though she still enjoyed pony rides, he had to catch her in the right mood or she would glower at him and stomp her foot, telling him she was too old for it. He sensed that was the precise reaction he’d get if he suggested it now.  
  
“We could play a board game?” he suggested. They had a couple, ones with most of their pieces. Their mother liked them because they were quiet.  
  
“Those are boring,” Octavia complained.  
  
“Well, I don’t know then O, there really isn’t that much to do in here,” he told her, letting out a long breath.  
  
She glowered at the floor and said quietly, “Yeah, I know.”  
  
He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, or remind her of how unfair this all was. And it _was_ unfair.  
  
“Okay then, how about a story?” he asked her. “I’ll tell you a story about all the fun things we’ll do when I’m a guard and you have your own room.”  
  
He saw a tear splash down on the metal table and his heart sank. Softly his sister said, “Bell. That’s never going to happen.”  
  
“Hey,” he protested, getting out of his chair and crouching down in front of her, looking into her eyes. Her bangs were getting long, spilling into her eyes. “It _is_ going to happen,” he insisted. “I take the entrance exam in a few months, remember? We're closer than ever.” When she said nothing, just kept glaring at the floor, he reached up and curled his fingers into her armpits to tickle her.  
  
She giggled, then twisted away from him, her expression angry. “That’s not _fair,_ Bell, don’t make me laugh when I’m not happy.”  
  
He let out a sigh and got to his feet. She was annoying him- her mood swings, her melancholy. It was contagious and made him feel helpless.  
  
Grabbing his mother’s scissors, he took her by the hand and sat her down in the chair. “I don't know how you can even see,” he complained, holding her bangs between his fingers to judge its length.  
  
“See what?” she muttered. “There’s nothing to see. Just the same old boring stuff I’ve seen every day since forever.”  
  
Bellamy drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, trying to maintain his patience. He took the scissors and made four careful slices across her fringe- it wasn’t quite as even as his mother’s haircuts, but it did the trick. At least now she wouldn’t have hair stabbing her in the eyes all the time.  
  
“You’re welcome,” he said, putting the scissors away.  
  
Very quietly she whispered, “Screw you.”  
  
He felt a swell of anger and shock- where did she even learn that phrase?- and before he even knew what he was doing he was whirling around on her and snapping, “Are you _kidding_ me right now? _Seriously?”_  
  
Octavia looked up at him like she deeply regretted those words and wanted to take them back. “Bell-”  
  
“Whatever,” he interrupted, stalking towards the door. “I’m going for a walk.”  
  
“No!” Octavia cried, jumping to her feet and going after him. She grabbed at him but he pushed her away roughly, too irritated to indulge her right now.  
  
“I’m going for a walk,” he said again. “Do our homework, I’ll be back later.”  
  
“No.” Her lip trembled and she grabbed his arm again, clinging to him. “Please don’t leave me alone, Bell. _Please.”_  
  
He hesitated, but he was too angry. He couldn’t just calm down standing in one place- he had to walk, burn off some energy. Couldn't she understand that?  
  
Of course she couldn't, he realised. She’d never had the opportunity to do the same.  
  
“Just… do our homework. I won’t be gone long.” He grabbed the door handle and pulled.  
  
“I’ll run after you,” Octavia said suddenly from behind him, her voice like ice.  
  
Bellamy stopped in his tracks and looked back to her. She was standing just on the edge of the step of their upper floor, her fists clenched, her eyes like blue electricity snapping at him.  
  
Aurora had recently told him that Octavia would be testing boundaries soon, and that he had to be careful. But he’d had no idea she meant _this._  
  
He didn’t know what to do, so he tried to talk her down. “Are you crazy?”  
  
“Maybe,” she answered, still angry. “Don’t go.”  
  
“So what, you’re going to _guilt_ me into hanging out with you?” he demanded.  
  
Octavia swallowed and he knew she wanted to cry, but her fists just clenched harder and she said, “I guess so.”  
  
Bellamy watched her for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “You won’t do it,” he said finally. “You’re bluffing.”  
  
He walked through the door. Octavia hopped off the step and stalked to the doorway. She put her hand up and caught the door before he could close it.  
  
They stared at each other. For a moment, he believed she would walk out into the hallway, and he had no idea what to do. He realised that the barrier that kept her in- it wasn’t a barrier at all. She could choose to ignore it anytime she wanted. Maybe she’d make that choice today.  
  
But then, as quickly as her bravery had flared she lost it, and she let go of the door, stepping back. “Just go,” she whispered, the tears starting down her cheeks as she looked away from him.  
  
He left her there, crying and alone, something he’d never done before. It was like a demon was chasing him from that room- he couldn't stay there anymore.  
  
Intending to just walk around the station to calm himself down, he chose an arbitrary direction and just walked, fast and with purpose, feeling anger boiling up inside him- at Octavia, at her life, at _his_ life, but mostly at himself, for failing her, abandoning her. With that anger came a rush of shame and guilt, and helplessness at not knowing how to make this right.  
  
“Hi,” someone said from next to him and he started, looked up, not recognising the voice at first. It was Kaitlin, his neighbour, a girl he’d gone to school with for years- and one he’d taken into the supply closet only a week ago. She was standing in the doorway of her quarters, looking quizzically at him.  
  
“Hey,” he said to her, forcing a smile, trying to look like everything was normal.  
  
But she seemed to pick up on something and asked him cautiously, “Bellamy… are you okay?”  
  
He started to nod, but then he found he didn’t want to lie, so he just shrugged. Kaitlin’s face softened and she invited him into her quarters. As she led him inside and closed the door she said, “My parents are gone until late and I’m pretty bored. We could talk.”  
  
They didn’t talk. As soon as they were inside he pulled her close, covering her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. He felt her arms wrap around him and her tongue snake into his mouth, and then they were pulling off each other’s clothes. He didn’t even bother going to her room, he just nudged her down onto the couch and watched as she opened her legs to him. With a deep moan he sank into her as her legs wrapped around him. He could hardly believe the incredible feeling of wetness and warmth that contained him, better than any hand or mouth. In that moment, he couldn't remember why he'd wanted to wait. He thrust into her again and again until he lay spent and exhausted on top of her, but he didn’t let himself sleep.  
  
Instead, he rolled off of Kaitlin, pulled his clothes back on, and went home to make things right with his sister.


	26. 26- Octavia

She and Bellamy were fighting more and more now, and Octavia hated it. She wanted to go back to the way things were before she noticed so much, before she was so aware of how terrible everything was, how little and sad her life had always been and would always be. She wasn’t angry at her brother, and that’s what made it so crazy- but he was someone safe, someone she could vent with. If she tried the same thing on her mother, Aurora would be more likely to go crazy or lock her under the floor than actually listen. Bellamy tried his best to make her happy, to comfort her, and more and more that was what she needed most.  
  
Even though she always felt terrible, afterward, for intentionally pushing his buttons. It was just that she couldn’t stop herself.  
  
Octavia was growing increasingly afraid of one thing- that love was _not,_ as the storybooks said, unconditional. That there must be resentment bubbling somewhere under the surface of Bellamy’s skin. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from picking at it like a scab- testing, pushing.  
  
In the stories her mother and brother told her, the heroes were always having adventures- going on quests, saving their kingdoms, gods having love affairs with humans. They inhabited a fantastical world of wonder and fun, big and wide and full of possibilities.  
  
Octavia inhabited a little room with cold metal walls, with nothing but a machine hum for company on the long days of being alone. Her life was not fantastical. She was no hero and never would be. She would never even be a person at all- not officially. No one knew she was here but her mother and brother. She could die and no one would even be aware that the Ark had lost another soul.  
  
Usually Octavia was happy and tried her best not to think about all the bad things, but every so often it caught up to her, and it was hard not to be depressed then. When those bouts hit her, often she just turned off the lights, sat on the floor, hugged her knees to her chest, and pretended she was somewhere else- inside one of the stories she loved so much.  
  
But the fantasies never lasted long. The red glow of their clock, which she couldn't turn off, cast shadows across the room, painting in stark relief that made her acutely aware of just how small and familiar those surroundings were.  
  
More than anything, Octavia loved her brother. Bellamy was sixteen now, tall and lanky. His voice was deeper than it had ever been. His hair, once so straight and thick, now curled in crazy directions after he’d been in the shower, not going down again until he brushed it. He was big, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He was handsome, his smile was wry and big, his freckles cute, and his brown eyes warm.  
  
She adored everything about him.  
  
Which is why she felt so guilty every time she intentionally made him mad, tried to get a rise out of him, tried to get attention in a way that wasn’t fair. He was trying to be the best for her, like always, but she made it more and more difficult.  
  
Bellamy, too, had sour moods- she wasn’t sure if that had always been true or she just noticed it now that she was ten and wiser. She felt like she had only seen part of her world- even this little one- for so long, and she was just starting to notice things about her mother and brother that seemed invisible before. She wondered what other new things she might notice in years to come, but she was also scared- the more she perceived, the worse she felt about her life.  
  
Octavia wanted friends- even just _one_ friend. She wanted someone she could play with, share secrets with… another girl like her, someone her own age so she could figure out what that looked like. She felt so lost, so all over the place, and knew so little about other kids, that it was hard to know whether she was normal or not.  
  
She desperately wanted to be normal. Bellamy had told her that normal wasn’t real, that it was just a word people used to make you feel bad, but to Octavia it was everything.  
  
She also wanted to grow up and have a life- a _real_ life, with a partner and maybe even children. She was old enough now to begin to realise that she might not get to marry Bellamy- as much as she still wanted to. He was her everything, the person she loved most in the world, the one who made her feel safe and loved and real. In the stories, sisters were forever marrying their brothers- especially the gods and goddesses. But Octavia was not a goddess, and although Bellamy might have been like a god to _her,_ he wasn’t for real. She knew that.  
  
Still, it didn’t change the fact that she knew she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, and that seemed good enough.  
  
But what if Bellamy wanted what she wanted? A partner? Children? He always said he didn’t, that those things would never be part of his life and that was fine, but she was scared of that resentment that she was so sure lived under his skin. If she denied him a family- or at least, a family outside of their own- would be hate her for it? Would he hate her for everything, in time?  
  
If Bellamy ended up hating her, her life would be over. All alone, in the dark, with no one to love her. He would bring her food and water because it was his duty- no, he would never let her starve if he was still breathing. But if he hated her, then that would be it. The bare minimum, what she needed to survive, and otherwise nothing- no stories, no pony rides, no laughing jokes... no love at all.  
  
Sometimes when she thought too much, the future became a terrifying place.  
  
Octavia had reached the scariest place her young mind could allow today, so she sprung to her feet and pulled off her boots, running around and around the little room in her socks, skidding a little as she went faster and faster. It did the trick, and soon laughter was bubbling up from her stomach and spilling out of her mouth in quiet giggles. She waited until she was too dizzy to walk in a straight line, and then she stumbled over to her mother’s bunk and threw herself onto the mattress, breathing hard, a grin on her face.  
  
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, there was a voice over the Ark-wide channel. “Solar flare alert,” it said. “A Z-class solar flare has begun on the starboard side of the Ark. All citizens must report to the nearest shelter zone immediately.”  
  
“Except me,” Octavia mumbled, rolling out of bed and going to the table, pushing it out of the way. She had recently grown strong enough to lift the floor panel by herself, but it had been more anticlimactic than she’d expected such a big accomplishment to be.  
  
Lifting it up now, she jumped down into the hole and knelt down low, reaching up to slide the panel back into place. She knew that the protective alloys in the floor- the ones designed to protect the people in the Ark from solar radiation- also kept her safe in the hole. She couldn’t go to a shelter, but she didn’t need to be afraid of being hurt by the flare either.  
  
It was a long wait, and boring. She played with a couple of her old toys that were tucked into the side of her hole, but they were boring now- she’d long outgrown them, and rations were tight enough as it is without her getting more.  
  
She tried to sleep to pass the time, but it was a lot more cramped in there than it had once been, and she could never get comfortable. Plus, she’d just had a nap, so she wasn’t really tired.  
  
Octavia watched the clock. She tried to empty her mind, to think of nothing- worry about nothing. She imagined her mother and brother, where they might be. Were they sitting quietly, waiting too? Or were they talking to other people to pass the time?  
  
Bellamy would be in his school shelter, so maybe he was talking to his friends- though he never talked _about_ friends when he was home. She didn’t know if that was because he didn’t have any, or if it was because he didn’t want to make her feel bad by describing all the fun he had.  
  
Aurora would be at the shelter nearest the textile factory. She would be impatient, waiting for the flare to be over so she could get back to it. They didn’t pay for time spent in the shelter, even though it wasn’t anyone’s fault.  
  
Finally, the speaker crackled to life again and the voice said, “The solar flare has now passed. Please be patient while we assess any damage and check for safe radiation levels. This should only take a few minutes.”  
  
Octavia knew it was true. That process was done efficiently, and it rarely took more than twenty minutes. Not long now to wait.  
  
Suddenly she was struck with a wicked idea, and it was so shocking that her hand snapped over her mouth as though she’d made a sound.  
  
All her neighbours- every single one- were in those shelters. No one was here, not in all of Section 17, where she knew they lived. She could go outside, and no one would even know.  
  
Before she could scare herself by thinking about it too much, Octavia was up and scrambling out of the hole. She pulled her boots back on, lacing them carefully, and looked at the clock. She had ten minutes- easily.  
  
Hurrying to the door, she unlatched it, then grasped the handle and pulled, feeling how clammy her hands were, her nerves making her heart beat faster.  
  
It wasn’t her first time seeing this hallway- she caught glimpses of it frequently, whenever her mother and brother left her or came back to her. But to step outside- that was something different.  
  
Octavia pulled the door all the way open and just stood there breathing. There was something just a little bit different about the air outside her quarters- still that same recycled air smell, but somehow it felt denser, steeped with mystery. She just stood there for a long moment and looked- at the lights, the grate in the wall, their neighbour’s door and the writing on it, the floor grates glowing a soft white. All the things that Bellamy had described to her a thousand times on his tour of the Ark were there, and she knew there would be even more to discover as she walked away.  
  
She hovered on the precipice of the doorway, feeling almost sick with anxiety, her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach doing little flips. But then something happened- she couldn’t move. She couldn’t put her foot over the threshold. She couldn’t seem to make her body and mind cooperate- and everything felt terrifying, like the walls were flying away from her and everything was too big and scary.  
  
Then there was a noise up ahead, around the bend- a small tap of metal against metal.  
  
Octavia fell backwards into her familiar room, slamming the door behind her and running to her mother’s bunk, boots and all. She pulled the blanket over her head and lay there as still as she could, breathing hard, heart pounding, her body trembling slightly from terror.  
  
She’d almost gotten her mother killed.  
  
Octavia was certain that the noise she’d heard had been someone coming. What if they’d been just around that corner? What if they’d rounded the bend and saw her standing there? What would have happened? They would have dragged her to a shelter, and she wouldn't have been on the list for Section 17, or even Factory Station. They would have been confused at first, but then they would have discovered the truth. Or wait, even before that, they would have asked for her ID chip, which every citizen of the Ark carried. Only she _wasn’t_ a citizen of the Ark, so she didn’t have one, and so they would have found out right here that she didn’t belong. They would have dragged her off and locked her up, and then they would have gone to the shelter where her mother was waiting and dragged her off too. They would have gone to Bellamy’s school, pulled him out in front of all his friends and that would be it- the end of their family. The end of everything.  
  
Octavia slid out of the bunk and ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet, trying to let go of all the horrible terror and fear and guilt.  
  
Then the door to her quarters opened. Octavia stumbled into the shower, shaking, trying to hide.  
  
“O?” Bellamy called out from the other room.  
  
She must not have heard the all-clear announcement over the speaker. How much time had passed? How long had she hid in the bunk, and how long had she hunched over the toilet, and now how long had she been in this shower?  
  
She heard the floor panel lift up, but she couldn't move. Then there was a knock at the door. “O?” Her brother sounded cautious.  
  
“I’m here,” she answered him, and those two words were more than she could take- she started sobbing, low hiccupping sobs from deep in her stomach, where her terror still floated like something sinister.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked urgently from behind the door. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Come,” she begged him, and she tried to go to him but she found she couldn’t move from where she was, her arms locked around her knees like stone.  
  
The door opened, and then the shower door, and Bellamy was looking down at her. “Hey, O, what happened?” he looked scared as he touched her face. “Was it the flare? Didn’t you go under the floor?”  
  
“I did, I’m fine,” she assured him, still sobbing and feeling horrible. “It’s not that.”  
  
“Come here,” he said gently. She was getting too big to be carried, but she let him pull her into his arms as though she was still a very little girl and she wrapped her legs and arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.  
  
Bellamy carried her into the main room and set her down. “Were you sick?” he asked. She knew he could smell that she was.  
  
Octavia nodded. “I puked.”  
  
He laid the back of his hand against her forehead and she leaned a little into his touch, craving the comfort of his skin. “You feel clammy,” he said, obviously worried. Octavia knew that when she got sick it was always bad- her mother and Bellamy took care with hand-washing, but if they brought home germs, she usually got very ill. Aside from her mother’s breast, Octavia had never received any of the usual immune protection enjoyed by all the other children on the Ark.  
  
“I’m okay, Bell,” she assured him. “Just scared.”  
  
“Because of the flare?”  
  
She looked at the clock; yes, it was after school. She had indeed lost time, in all her panicking. It was scary to think- that you could be scared enough to just fast-forward through part of your life. She had never known that.  
  
“Yeah,” she lied quietly, hanging her head. “I don’t know why… it just scared me this time.”  
  
“Remember,” he said gently. “You’re always safe under the floor.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Well, I got you something,” he said, smiling at her.  
  
In spite of her sour mood and her heartbeat that wouldn’t calm down, Octavia felt a rush of excitement looked up at him hopefully. “Really?”  
  
Bellamy nodded and went to his schoolbag. “Close your eyes.” She did, and then she felt something soft and woolen being pressed into her hands. For a moment she just studied it with her fingers- it was small, with a few different parts to it- there was a ball of fluff on one side, then what felt like long little tubes protruding from the bottom and sides, and two more little ones at the very top. There were some other bumpy bits too.  
  
Octavia finally looked, and she saw a little stuffed animal, an abstract one- it might have been a lamb, or a bear, or some kind of amalgamation of a few different animals. It was soft and knitted, its insides squishy. It had plushy little wings, so maybe it was even an alien.  
  
A grin spread over her face that matched her brother’s as she looked up at him. “I love it, Bell.” She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.  
  
“Yeah, it’s pretty cute,” he said, looking at it with her. “I saw it and couldn’t help but think of you.”  
  
“I hope it didn’t cost much,” she said, frowning suddenly, knowing that every ration was precious. She ate a lot more at ten than she had at two.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I didn’t pay anything for it.”  
  
Her eyes went huge. “Bellamy! You _stole?”_  
  
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he told her, laughing. “A friend gave it to me. She made it.”  
  
Octavia relaxed, glad that this cute thing she instantly loved hadn’t taken food from their table. She hugged him again, happily, feeling all her fear and panic from earlier evaporating like a heavy weight rising off her body.  
  
“Now how about you take your new friend on a pony ride?” her brother suggested, wiggling his eyebrows at her before leaning down to let her climb up on his back. Clutching her new friend close, she hung on tight, laughing softly as he galloped her around the room.  
  
And with that, like magic, Bellamy took all her sadness away and made her a little girl again.


	27. 27- Bellamy

It was only five months until he was due to take the cadet entrance exam. After the exam, even before the results came out, he had to earn two letters of recommendation, which were almost more important than the results themselves. The admissions committee wanted to see that people would support him regardless of what his exam results were. And even after he took the test, he would have to keep studying, because it wouldn’t be until the next school year that he’d officially start the program.  
  
Bellamy had been studying for that exam since he was ten years old. There was no way he wouldn’t ace it. The letters, though, those were different. He had spent the better part of two years buttering up his teacher, who was good friends with one of the guard trainers. He knew she would write the letter. As for the second one, his mother was positive she could get one of the Factory Station Inspectors to write it for him, telling him she’d built up a friendship with the man.  
  
Aurora was more excited than he was, and Bellamy was incredibly excited. Within a year, he would be a cadet- wearing the uniform, studying the skills, and eventually being put into active duty rotations. Then, after a few years, he would officially graduate, and be a guard. He’d get all the perks that came with that- more rations, bigger quarters, less inspections, and free access to all guard rotations on the Ark. Octavia would be sixteen by then- a good age to start a new life. It seemed like a thousand years away, but he’d waited almost half his life for this. He could wait a little longer.  
  
Opening the door to the supply closet at his school, Bellamy gave his classmate Elisabeth a quick smile as she leaned into his lips one last time. He could taste himself on her, which was unpleasant, but he let her kiss him and then said, “See you tomorrow,” before he shut the closet door. They parted ways, with him heading back to Section 17, and her to wherever she lived.  
  
Octavia had long since gotten used to him being a little late home from school- ten or twenty minutes at a time, but never longer than thirty minutes. She’d stopped complaining about it, which suited him just fine. But today he’d be home early, because his last class had been cancelled. He was looking forward to surprising her, knowing how excited she’d been. And he’d be able to take longer in the supply closet than usual, which meant they both won.  
  
Most days, those ten or twenty minutes he spent with girls made the rest of his day go smoothly. It allowed him to put his full attention into Octavia, and not feel trapped right along with her. Most of the time he could tap into his inner child, play with her, be silly with her, but there were also times when it could be tiresome- at the end of the day, they were six years apart. He lived on the Ark, and she lived in a tiny room. They couldn't have been more different.  
  
It was lucky he loved her more than anything in the world.  
  
His love for her was still fierce, a love that could at times knock him over with its intensity- the same love he’d felt for her the moment Aurora had put her into his arms. It had never faded but only grown over time, rooting deeply into his identity, developing alongside his sense of injustice for the life she was living. All he wanted was to give her the world- not the world of a little room that she had now, but the whole Ark. Inside his heart, there was still that little boy, the one who had vowed at ten years old that he would take Octavia outside, into the empty, unwatched corridors of the Ark. Seeing his sister free was still Bellamy’s greatest wish, and becoming a guard was the fastest way to make that happen.  
  
He had a smile on his face by the time he reached Section 17, thinking of Octavia running up and down the corridors, twirling around, dancing, her face lit up with excitement as she took everything in.  
  
Approaching his quarters, he prepared himself for Octavia’s inevitable attack- she loved to run toward him and almost knock him over, falling into his arms, gigging her soft little laugh, wrapping her limbs around him.  
  
But as soon as he opened the door, the smile fell off his face.  
  
His mother’s mattress was on the floor, but all he could see were her legs, because her torso and face were obscured by a man’s body. The man was kneeling between Aurora’s thighs, sweating, his pants around his ankles, rocking his hips into hers, grunting and moaning. But the second Bellamy slammed the door, the man jumped up, his eyes wide with shock.  
  
“What the _hell_ is going on here!” Bellamy yelled, advancing on the guy, who had barely hoisted his pants back up. He grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall.  
  
“Bellamy!” Aurora snapped form behind him, standing up now, adjusting her own clothes.  
  
He ignored her, leaning in close to the man’s face, feeling an overwhelming desire to kill him, so powerful that it unnerved him. “Get the hell out of here and don’t ever come back. I ever catch you raping my mother again, you won’t be leaving this room alive. Got it?” The man started laughing. Bellamy couldn’t believe it, and he slammed him up against the wall again. “You think this is _funny?”_  
  
The man shoved him off, and now he was in Bellamy’s face. “I wasn’t _raping_ her. I _paid_ her. You just walked in on a _transaction,_ you idiot, not a crime.”  
  
Bellamy stepped back, stung. His felt his face turn red, but it wasn’t just shame or even anger, it was embarrassment- that he had known this for years, and never admitted it to himself. All the snickers of his classmates, words hurled at him when he was being bullied, all the stares his mother got in the mess hall. He knew. He had just chosen not to accept it.  
  
But now, having it thrown in his face, witnessing it, he couldn’t do anything but allow that knowledge to seep into his every pore and make him sick: His mother was a prostitute, and had been for a long time.  
  
Bellamy grabbed the guy’s arm and dragged him to the front door. He opened it and shoved him outside, so hard he slammed into the grate on the wall opposite their door.  
  
“You owe me fifty ration points, Aurora!” he yelled, just before the door was slammed in his face.  
  
For a long moment, Bellamy just stood there- his hand on the door, his eyes on the floor.  
  
“Bellamy,” Aurora’s voice came, sharp.  
  
He whirled on her. Stalked across the room and grabbed her by her upper arms, backing her into the wall and just holding her there. “How _could_ you?” he spat in her face.  
  
Her eyes were huge. He didn’t care that he was scaring her. “Bellamy-”  
  
“No,” he interrupted. He wanted to hit her. He wanted to strangle her. “Don’t say anything,” he said, seething, his chest heaving with anger.  
  
His mother’s lip curled up and she whispered, “Bellamy. Let me go.”  
  
He did, but he didn’t back away. “You did this _here?_ ” He couldn’t even look at her.  
  
“I had no choice,” she said. “He-”  
  
“Oh, _stop,”_ he snapped, cutting her off. He grabbed the table and shoved it across the room as hard as he could, toppling two of the chairs. His mother jumped. He didn’t care. He pulled the panel up and threw it aside.  
  
Inside the hole, Octavia was sobbing softly, wrapped around the stuffed toy he’d given her. He leaned down and picked her up, lifting her into his arms. Instantly she wrapped herself around him, her face buried in his shoulder.  
  
“Octavia,” Aurora said, reaching out a hand to touch her back. “Sweetie, it’s okay.”  
  
“Don’t touch her,” Bellamy snapped, and he knew his eyes were cold and dark. “Get out of here- just go, Mom.”  
  
“Mind yourself, Bellamy Blake,” she hissed, her body tense. “She's _my_ daughter.”  
  
“Go!” he snapped. “I look after her better than you ever could. So go get our dinner or do whatever you want, but you get out of here. _Now.”_  
  
There was a long moment of terrible anger and electricity that crackled between them while they just kept glaring at each other. Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Octavia whimpered and Bellamy moved to the table, sitting her right down on top of it, disentangling her limbs from around him. She tried to cling to him but he took her hands in his hand and squeezed them tight. “Just one minute,” he promised her, replacing his hands with her stuffed animal and watching her hug it close.  
  
He hurried to his mother’s bed and replaced the mattress and blankets, erasing the presence of what had just been done right above his sister’s head. He couldn’t imagine what must have been going through her head, how she must have felt to have to see and hear that. The only silver lining was that she was young enough that she probably had no idea what was happening.  
  
“Bell… you shouted at Mom,” Octavia whispered.  
  
He hurried back over, taking her hands again, crouching down a little to look at her. “I know, but it’ll be alright. She shouldn’t have done that, O.” He studied her face, her blue eyes shining with tears. “Are you okay?”  
  
Octavia nodded. “Who was that man?”  
  
“He doesn't matter,” he said firmly.  
  
“But what were they doing?”  
  
Bellamy hesitated. “Just… things adults do sometimes.”  
  
She sucked on her lower lip for a moment, and then asked, “Bad things?” Again, he hesitated. He didn’t know how to answer that question and it was obvious as the silence hung between them. Softly she asked, “Bell, what’s ‘raping’?”  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, hating that she’d heard that, and then he put his hands on her shoulders as he looked at her again. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “You don’t need to worry about that, okay? It’s not something a little kid should hear about. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to say that in front of you.”  
  
Octavia’s frown was dark. “I’m not _little.”_  
  
In spite of the tense situation he smiled a little at her and nodded his head. “Okay,” he said softly.  
  
“They were kissing, before he started doing the bad things,” she told him.  
  
He let out a breath, but nodded his head, realising that there was no way out of this conversation- not now; not thanks to his mother. “Yeah, kissing is another things adults do sometimes, O.”  
  
“Like when they love each other?”  
  
Again, he hesitated. “Sometimes.”  
  
“But Mommy doesn’t love him?”  
  
“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “She doesn’t love him.” He cleared his throat. “Come on, Octavia, let’s talk about something else.”  
  
But she clearly wasn't ready to drop the topic. “Did you ever kiss anyone?”  
  
If only she knew. Bellamy shrugged. “Sometimes.”  
  
She looked surprised, as though she hadn’t thought he would say yes to that question. Softly she said, “No one’s ever going to kiss me.”  
  
He smiled. “Hey,” he teased her gently. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Octavia. Nobody kissed me when I was your age either. Wait about five or six years, okay?”  
  
“And then what?” she asked, not returning his smile. “I won’t know anyone then either.”  
  
Bellamy’s heart sank, knowing he couldn’t argue with that. He put his hands under her arms and helped her hop off the table- even though she could have done that easily by herself. “What do you want to play?”  
  
She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Don’t distract me, Bell.”  
  
“Why not?” he asked her, still trying to keep things playful. “It’s fun.” He reached out and gave her a gentle poke in the ribs.  
  
In spite of herself she smiled, and he poked her again, then wiggling his fingers into her armpits. She giggled again, twisting away, reaching out to tickle him back, and he laughed, letting her chase him around the room as they collapsed together on the floor. Octavia was quiet, but she was letting out peals of soft laughter that warmed his heart. He hoped he was chasing away her thoughts of what had just happened- that maybe, being so young, she would forget this like she had forgotten so many other things.  
  
He hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking, but part of him knew that it was.  
  
Bellamy let Octavia hold one of his arms down as she curled her fingers into his armpit, and then he grabbed her hands and held them both easily with one of his.  
  
“No fair!” she complained, but she was still smiling. She looked up at him, and he could see that there was no more fear in her eyes, just warmth and laughter. He used his other hand to keep tickling her, wiggling her fingers into her ribcage, trying to make her squirm and give up.  
  
Suddenly she grabbed his arm, and he could see the change in her as she gazed at him. He wasn’t sure what she was going to say- if she was going to ask him another question, raise another difficult topic that he would have to navigate like a minefield.  
  
But she didn’t. She just swallowed a little and glanced away. Her voice was soft as she said, “I love you, Bell.”  
  
Bellamy relaxed, glad there were no more heavy topics tonight. He returned the smile, and tucked her hair behind her ear, nodding his head. “I love you too, O.”  
  
Octavia seemed to hesitate, her fingers playing with the curve of his arm. Then she looked up at him through her lashes and said, softly, “Bell. I _love_ you.”  
  
She looked so cute and she sounded so earnest that he couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, pulling her into his chest, hugging her tightly, pressing his lips to her hair. “I heard you the first time,” he teased, gently.  
  
Octavia’s sigh was long, half-buried in his shoulder. But then, after a short delay, she put her arms around him, squeezed him tightly, and said simply, “Good.”


	28. 28- Octavia

Looking down at Bellamy’s tablet, Octavia scrolled and read carefully, working hard to hide her dismay.  
  
The cadet-training schedule was a full one- not just normal school, but specialised classes, and on-duty training. Rosters and shiftwork, seminars and tutorials. He’d be spending so much time out of their quarters, she could hardly believe it.  
  
“Your brother’s about to be a busy man,” Aurora said, her voice bursting with pride. “This time next year, he’ll be a cadet- finally.” She smiled at Octavia, big and warm. “Won’t that be great?”  
  
She shut off the tablet and looked down at her hands, taking big breaths, trying to dispel the sensation of the room closing in- her world shrinking around her.  
  
“O?” Bellamy asked, and she looked up in time to see him exchange a glance with their mother before he leaned forward, laying his hand on her forearm and squeezing gently.  
  
Her eyes fell to their tabletop, and as much as she tried not to let it happen, a single tear rolled down her cheek, over her nose, and splashed onto the metal.  
  
“Octavia,” Aurora said immediately. “We’ve been waiting for this for as long as you can remember, right? This is _good_ for us- for you and Bellamy. You know that.”  
  
“But,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She couldn't go on.  
  
“But _what?”_ her mother countered, exasperated. “Don’t you want bigger quarters? A window? Your own bed? Not to be _scared_ all the time?”  
  
Would she ever not be scared all the time? Would there ever be a day that her heart wouldn’t stop, just for a moment, when the door opened? Would she ever get to sleep in a bed that was just for her? Did she even _want_ that? And was she going to get to look outside at that floating blue orb of the Earth? Would that ever _really_ happen?  
  
The reality today was that she was about to be facing a lot more time alone. And for Octavia, loneliness was the most painful part of her life.  
  
When she looked up again, Aurora was frowning at her. “Don’t be selfish.”  
  
Her mother’s face swam before her eyes and she knew she was about to cry for real, but she didn’t want to. With big breaths she managed to stop her tears, leaving them brimming in her eyes like they were behind a dam. She could still feel Bellamy’s had on her forearm, so gingerly she reached out and covered it with her own, linking her littlest finger into his. She felt his finger squeeze hers gently, and she let out one last shuddering breath of relief. She wasn’t trying to be selfish, and her brother knew that- so it was okay. It would be.  
  
“You can have my old uniform,” Bellamy told her, his voice gentle but with a bit of an edge to it, like he was stressed. “It’ll fit you now, with some room to grow. We can both be cadets, and you can help me with my training. Okay?”  
  
But Octavia hated that uniform. She had hated it since the day their mother gave it to him, four years ago, and she still remembered that day vividly. She hated how it looked on him, hated that it matched the cruel and scary men who visited them, who forced her to hide beneath the floor and hold her breath and whisper that she wasn’t afraid until her heart finally sank back down into her chest.  
  
And now her brother would be one of them. He would go into people’s houses, toss their things around, accuse them of stealing what little they had. He would make families shudder in terror and if there were other second children like her on the Ark, he would force them under the floor.  
  
That thought made her breath quicken. She couldn't stand it, that he would be like them. It couldn't be. Not him- not _her_ Bellamy.  
  
Would he also have to touch their mothers, turn them into monsters that moaned and talked with voices made of creeping honey, sickly sweet and foreign?  
  
It was too much. Her heart seized up. No longer able to control her tears, they poured down her face unbidden, and her voice was wobbly as she said, “But I don’t _want_ you to hurt people.”  
  
“What are you _talking_ about?” her mother asked, exasperated.  
  
“Octavia, I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Bellamy assured her, and he looked utterly confused- hurt even.  
  
“I can’t deal with this,” Aurora said. “Octavia- once your brother is a guard, you’ll be living with him, and I can cut down my hours. We can spend a lot more time together, okay? His being a guard is _good.”  
  
_ Together those two things- Bellamy’s pain, her mother’s plans to separate herself from them- made her feel worse, cry harder.  
  
Aurora let out a breath, glancing at the clock. “Bellamy, I need to sew. Can you please…?”  
  
Bellamy took her by the hand let her down onto the lower floor of their quarters, sitting with her on the metal bench that was tucked against the wall. Octavia pulled in some breaths, sniffling back her tears, calming herself down. She heard her mother opening her sewing kits, getting to work.  
  
Bellamy waited; she could feel his eyes on her. Eventually she dared to look at him. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Again he said, “I’m not going to hurt anyone.” His voice was soft, his forehead deeply creased. “Why would you say that?”  
  
“Because the men who come here hurt Mom sometimes,” she said, very quietly, making sure their mother wouldn’t overhear. Only once she’d said it did she dare to look at him again, and she could see her words had shocked him, hurt him even. Hesitantly she said, “Sorry.”  
  
“Hey, look at me,” he said, suddenly urgent, putting his hands on her shoulders. She did as he asked, and it was obvious from his expression that this was about to be important. “I’m not like them,” he told her. “I’m not one of those men- okay?”  
  
She searched his eyes, swallowed a little, nodded. “I’m scared,” she admitted.  
  
“Uniforms are just clothing, O,” he said gently. “And being a guard is just a job. _Those_ men were assholes to start with. _Those_ men think women are…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It doesn't matter, but I’m not one of those men, and I never will be.”  
  
Octavia nodded her head. She knew it was true. He couldn’t be like them- if she was certain of nothing else in her life, she was certain of this: Bellamy was good. No matter what.  
  
“You’re going to be busy a lot,” she said softly, voicing the other creeping fear that had risen up as she’d looked at the cadet training schedule.  
  
His face softened and he nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I have to be… I’ll still come home as quick as I can and spend as much time with you as I can.”  
  
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, nodding. “Okay.”  
  
Bellamy offered her a wry smile. “So do I have your blessing?” he teased, gently. “Can I write this exam tomorrow?”  
  
Octavia gave him a sly smile, but nodded. “Yeah… okay. I’ll allow it.”  
  
He laughed, rolling his eyes, but she could see it was good-natured. She could also see that he was nervous- genuinely nervous- and she felt badly for not considering how much pressure was on _his_ shoulders.  
  
“You’re going to pass,” she told him firmly. “You’re going to ace it.”  
  
He swallowed a little. “What if I don’t? Then what?”  
  
“Bell… there’s no way you won’t pass.” But she knew that’s what made the prospect of failure so much worse. To bolster him she pointed out, “You’ve been studying since you were my age.”  
  
They both laughed at the ridiculousness of that- but it was true. She had every faith in him… there was no way he wouldn't pass. Which is why she was so scared.  
  
“What if I don’t want to move out?” she asked softly.  
  
“That won’t happen for a long time,” he said gently. “By then you’ll be ready.”  
  
“But Mom will be lonely.”  
  
“She’ll be okay,” he told her, with a soft smile. “All kids leave, O. It’s supposed to be like that. We’ll have more space, she’ll have more space… it’s a win-win.”  
  
“But where will we live?” She had no concept of the size of the Ark- not really. “How far away?”  
  
“Not that far,” he assured her. “Alpha Station- it’s not far at all. And I’m sure she’ll visit all the time.”  
  
“But you said Alpha Station is _bad.”  
  
_ She watched him cringe. “It’s not… _bad,”_ he said carefully. “Just that the people who live there have a lot of things that they don’t appreciate.”  
  
“But _we’re_ going to live there,” she pointed out.  
  
He smiled softly at her. “Yeah… but _we’ll_ appreciate it because _we_ know what it’s like to go without.”  
  
She considered that for a moment, and then she let out her breath, nodding her head. “I guess so.”  
  
His smile grew and he poked her gently in the ribs. “You _guess_  so?”  
  
Softly, she giggled. “Yeah.”  
  
“Yeah?” he repeated, drawing out the vowels, tickling her, turning her single giggle into peals of quiet laughter. Octavia felt her heart lightening as he played with her, and she forced herself to push aside all the disturbing thoughts about Bellamy becoming a guard, what that might look like… who he might be.  
  
After a little while Aurora’s voice called, “Quiet games, you two. I’m working.”  
  
“Oh, you’re so lucky,” Bellamy teased her. “Saved by Mom from the tickle monster.” He caught her disappointment and then stood up from the bench, crouching down and offering, “Pony ride?”  
  
She knew she was getting too big for this, but she didn’t care- she loved his pony rides, the way he painted the scenery with his words, the way he carried her, the safety she felt on his back.  
  
“The desert,” she said immediately, climbing up and holding onto his shoulders.  
  
Bellamy gave her a boost and started walking them around the room. His voice was soft for Aurora’s sake, but he still brought the landscape to life for her, describing the shades of shadow on the sand, the heat and softness of it under her pony’s hooves, the sun beating down on them, and the cool oasis in the distance, with clear blue water. Then he took her back to the lower level again.  
  
“Wait, we didn’t pick up my alien!” she exclaimed. She could see the little stuffed animal from across the room, sitting on Bellamy’s bunk.  
  
He chuckled but nodded, dutifully leaning down again so she could climb on. “Up we go,” he said, bouncing a little as he galloped over to the bed, making her giggle. She could even see a smile on her mother’s face, so she hoped there was no hard feelings about the fuss she’d just made. As usual, Bellamy could chase all her fears away.  
  
Gently he set her down on the floor, but as she reached for the little stuffed animal he’d gotten her, he started to walk away. She followed him, protesting, “I want another pony ride!”  
  
Bellamy turned, giving her a look that was half surprise, half teasing. “You want another one?” She knew he could never refuse her. She nodded her head, smiling big. Her brother bent over, his hands on his knees so he could get to her level. “Okay,” he relented. “Do you want to go through the jungle or the forest?”  
  
Without even thinking, Octavia pushed her hands together and breathed out what she wanted most, “I want to see the Ark, Bell. Take me on the tour!”  
  
His face told her she’d made a mistake.  
  
“That’s enough,” Aurora’s voice came, sharp. “Both of you.” She was looking at the clock again, and as she did it beeped. Octavia’s smile faded because she knew what that meant- her mother only ever set an alarm for one thing. Sure enough, Aurora set down her sewing and told them, “It’s time.”  
  
Octavia’s heart sank. “But… no. I don’t want to.” It was so unfair- here she was having fun with Bellamy, the two of them enjoying what might have been one of the few free days he had left, and the inspectors were coming to take that away?  
  
Their mother stood, and her hands gripped Octavia’s upper arms; she knew that was a signal to be quiet but she couldn’t help asking, “How do you even _know?”  
  
_ Bellamy was already getting things ready- resigned to it, accepting it. “Yeah, Mom,” he said, and Octavia was surprised by the hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Tell us how you’re never surprised by surprise inspections.”  
  
The anger that tightened her mother’s face was scary as she crouched down, but she didn’t even look at her son as she warned, “Mind yourself, Bellamy Blake.”  
  
Octavia knew it was bad when she used both his names.  
  
Aurora held her daughter’s hands, looking into her eyes as she said to Bellamy, “Tell your sister what happens if they find her.”  
  
Bellamy grabbed the table and pulled it back, away from the hole. Irritably he said, “She _knows_ what happens. I’ve told her a thousand times.”  
  
Octavia watched the two of them carefully, worried by her mother’s angry expression- she obviously wanted him to play along, do as she said, but Bellamy was doing what she said less and less.  
  
“O,” he said, leaning down, opening the floor panel. “You know the drill.”  
  
“I hate the drill,” she protested, staring down at that depressing little place- far too little for her now, even though she knew she still had years of growing still to do down there. It was cold and scary and boring and she hated it with everything she had. She knew it wasn’t Bellamy’s fault, but she snapped at him, “Sometimes I wish I was never even born.” She was looking at him because he was safe, but the words were for her mother.  
  
Aurora grabbed her and spun her back around to face her; Octavia could see the clench in her jaw as she looked up at her, dark eyes intense as she gave her a little shake. “Stop it, Octavia,” she warned, her voice edged with something like anger. “I know you’re afraid, but fear is a demon.”  
  
It was true: she was afraid. She knew she shouldn’t be, and she knew also that she was being unfair- this wasn’t in anyone’s control. Not in her mother’s, not in Bellamy’s. But it felt so unjust, and she hated the hole… how she disappeared when she went in there. She hated the power the inspectors had, to make their little family even littler just by walking into the room.  
  
“Close your eyes, and you tell yourself that you are _not_ afraid,” her mother urged her, and Octavia did, just letting the words wash over her, knowing this little pep talk off by heart but still finding it comforting. “That is how you _slay_ the demon,” her mother said, the vehemence in her voice like some magic power.  
  
A sudden banging on the door made Octavia jump, glancing toward it, but her mother just kept hold of her shoulders and insisted, “Say it.”  
  
Outside, the guards yelled, “Inspection! Open up!”  
  
Octavia closed her eyes and, with as much conviction as she could muster, she said, “I’m not afraid.”  
  
A look of relief passed across Aurora’s face and she grabbed her daughter’s head, pressing her lips quickly to her hair before nudging her toward Bellamy.  
  
The knock came again, louder. Persistent. It made Octavia’s heart race.  
  
Then she remembered her alien- still sitting on Bellamy’s bed, waiting for her like the loyal friend it was.  
  
“Oh no,” she said quickly, pulling away from her mother and running to the bunks, reaching up to the top one and grabbing the little stuffed toy. Her mother grabbed her and hurried her along, and she jumped quickly into the floor, lying down with her arms around the alien.  
  
Then Bellamy closed the sky on her, and everything became much darker, the only light from the small handhold in the panel.  
  
“Open the door, now!” one of the inspectors yelled. Octavia was scared; would they be overly suspicious? Had it ever taken this long to open the door before? She could hear the sounds of the table moving back into place, her mother and brother’s footsteps, things being moved around. She knew Bellamy would be taking his position, looking as casual as possible.  
  
Octavia held tight to her toy and whispered, “I’m not afraid,” her voice barely more than breath.  
  
Then the voices came- strange voices. Male voices. Scary voices. “Ms. Blake,” one said, and she knew he was talking to her mother. “On behalf of the council, we’re here to perform a random inspection.”  
  
How _did_ her mother know? If they were really random, how did she figure it out? Octavia knew that once Bellamy became a guard, he’d have access to the schedules. But how did their mother know now?  
  
“Inspector Grus,” Aurora’s voice came- sickly sweet, not as bad as Octavia had heard it before, but not her mother’s voice either. “It’s good to see you. Your uniform’s ready- um… here you go. Just like new.”  
  
“I’m not afraid,” Octavia whispered, holding herself tightly. “I’m not afraid.”  
  
She couldn’t hear all of what was said next because her mother dropped her voice so it was hard to make out. But Aurora was asking the inspector for something, and Octavia knew what that would be: Bellamy’s letter of recommendation- once the results of his exam were out, it would be too late. He needed that letter so he could become a cadet and spend time apart from her.  
  
No, she knew that wasn’t fair. It was so he could give them a better life. Maybe she was still a little bit unhappy about the schedule though.  
  
She heard one of the male voices call out, “You think you’re guard material, kid? Come here. Let’s have a look at you.”  
  
Octavia waited for the familiar sound of her brother’s footsteps, but that sound didn’t come. Instead, there was a charged silence, and then Bellamy’s voice, cautious, “I’m good, thanks.”  
  
Her breath caught. Why would he refuse? Was it because of her? Had he decided not to be a guard because she was sad about the schedule?  
  
“Bellamy,” Aurora’s voice came. Oh no. Octavia knew that tone. As soon as they were all alone again, she was going to _kill_ them. “Stand up. Now.”  
  
Again Bellamy refused, and she could hear that he was determined as he said, “I don’t think so.”  
  
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered as her fear mounted. “I’m not afraid.”  
  
The inspector sounded more annoyed than their mother as he said, “Do you want to be in the guard or not?” _  
  
_ There was a charged silence. Octavia hugged her alien to her chin.  
  
“Come on,” the man said. “Three seconds. One. Two.”  
  
Octavia held her breath. Bellamy jumped out of his seat. She heard clattering, and then their mother’s voice yelling his name- angry, exasperated. She tried to soothe the guards as she sad, “I’m so sorry, inspector, I…”  
  
“Don’t be,” the man interrupted her, and he had a mean edge to his voice- Octavia remembered Bellamy’s words. This inspector must be one of _those_ men. She was even surer when he added, “Maybe he guard will make a man out of him.”  
  
She felt a surge of anger. He had no _idea_ who Bellamy was, how incredible he was, how perfect, how hard he worked.  
  
“Clean that up,” the inspector ordered.  
  
Bellamy’s voice was soft, embarrassed, as he said, “Yes, sir.” She could hear his hands sweeping whatever had fallen into a pile, and she wished she could reach her hand up and grab his, give it a squeeze and reassure him that he was good.  
  
“Yeah, sir, this one’s all clear,” another one of the guards called out, and Octavia could hear their heavy footfalls moving toward the door. She couldn’t hear any other words because of her brother’s movements above her, but she kept her eyes closed just in case, knowing she wouldn't be able to relax again until they were totally gone.  
  
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid.”  
  
Finally they left, and Bellamy pulled up the panel. He reached a hand down, pulling her upright, helping her back into the room.  
  
The tension in the air was palpable. Aurora looked angry; Bellamy looked guilty. Octavia felt like she’d missed something big.  
  
“Bell… you can be a guard if you want to,” she assured him. “I’m sorry I said you couldn’t- you can. Don’t make them mad again, okay?”  
  
“Stop it, Octavia,” Aurora snapped.  
  
“Just go to bed, O,” her brother said heavily.  
  
She frowned at him. “It’s four o’clock.”  
  
“Then do your homework,” their mother said before Bellamy could answer her. “Or sew something. Just… just _do_ something.”  
  
Shaking his head, Bellamy made a beeline for the door. “I’m going for a walk.”  
  
“Wait,” Octavia called him back, but he kept walking, charging out of their quarter and closing the door behind him with a soft thud.  
  
Aurora just stood there for a long moment, then looked at her. Octavia shrunk a little under the intensity of that gaze, but her mother only said, “I need a shower.”  
  
“It’s a cold water day,” Octavia answered, then regretted it instantly as Aurora stopped halfway to the bathroom and then whirled on her daughter.  
  
“Your brother has no respect,” she snapped. “He almost jeopardised everything today- _everything._ Do you _get_ that?”  
  
But Octavia knew Bellamy would never do anything to put her in danger. “Then he had a reason,” she said, stubbornly loyal, feeling her anger boiling over before she could even realise it. “And don’t say bad things about him either, Mom. He’s good- end of conversation.” It was a phrase their mother used often, and even Bellamy occasionally used it if he didn’t really didn’t want a particular subject pursued. But it was the first time Octavia had tried it out, and she couldn’t help but be surprised by the powerful feeling it gave her as the words left her lips.  
  
Her mother was staring at her like she’d never seen her before. “First him, now you?” she asked, exasperated.  
  
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Octavia countered. “For us to love each other the most? More than _you?”_ She knew she was being mean, but she couldn't stop it.  
  
Aurora looked totally taken aback, but she didn’t answer the question. After a very long silence, she pointed at the table and said, “Get sewing.”  
  
Octavia did as she was told. She knew she had pushed her mother far enough.


	29. 29- Bellamy

Walking into the room, Bellamy tried not to be nervous, but it was hard. He was one of twenty candidates sitting the cadet entrance exam today, and he didn’t recognise a single face. He knew some of them were following in the footsteps of one or both of their parents, while others just wanted power. But he was positive that no one had higher stakes in the outcome of this test than he did.  
  
They sat them in four rows of five, desks spaced apart so no one could look at each other’s tablets. Bellamy wouldn’t have dreamed of cheating. He knew the answer to every question, and had since he was ten years old. But even if he didn’t, he wouldn't have dared cheat- nothing that could jeopardise his and Octavia’s future.  
  
The exam was six hours, with an hour break in the middle. Once the test was half finished, the twenty tablets were collected and he was sent into the hallway with the other students, so they’d have a chance to eat. Bellamy ignored the food, leaning against the wall, thinking about all the answers he’d given, obsessing over whether they were right or wrong. He could hear chatter around him, but he was tuning it out.  
  
Suddenly a question broke through to him, “Hey, are you that kid from Factory?”  
  
Bellamy looked up. Nineteen pairs of eyes stared back at him. He licked his lips, swallowed and said, “Yeah.”  
  
“You really think you have a chance?” the guy asked, smirking a little. He had dark brown hair and crooked teeth. “Who wrote your letters of recommendation?”  
  
Bellamy shifted uncomfortably, shrugged. “My teacher and an inspector.”  
  
There were small snickers from a few of the others. The guy who’d asked the question smiled in a way that wasn’t friendly and said, “Mine are from David Miller and Marcus Kane.” Bellamy didn't know them personally, but he did know that Miller was head guard and Kane was on the Council.  
  
He didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that, so he just said, “Cool.”  
  
“You know only eight of us are getting chosen, right?” the guy went on. “You really think one of them is going to be _you?”_  
  
“Leave him alone,” one of the girls spoke up. She had emerald green eyes and long, strawberry-blonde hair, and she was smiling at him in a way he recognised.  
  
He reached out a hand and she took it, silencing all the jeering boys as he tugged her by the arm, down the hall and around a corner. She was smiling shyly as she told him, “I think it’s brave what you’re doing.”  
  
He pressed close to her, keeping hold of her hand and leaning in, a smile curling his lips. Softly he said, his voice light with teasing, “Don’t you know? All Factory Station boys are brave.”  
  
“I haven’t really met one before,” she answered, giggling at his breath in her ear.  
  
“Well, now you have,” he said, keeping his face close to hers. “I’m Bellamy.”  
  
“Andrea,” she answered, blushing. When her eyes darted to his lips he knew what she wanted and he leaned in and kissed her, feeling her relax into his arms. Bellamy felt himself hardening against her leg almost immediately, wanting that relief. Together they found an empty room, stumbling into it and closing the door, their lips all over each other. Her skirt made things easier.  
  
She was a good distraction, and then Bellamy was back at his desk. He felt calmer as he sat down to the second half of his exam. Like he had for the first half, he answered the questions quickly and easily, then spent the remainder of the time obsessing over whether those answers were correct. He didn’t stand up until the very last second ticked by, and then he left without talking to anyone.  
  
His first stop was the mess hall. He wanted to bring home something special for Octavia, something she would love- something to reward her for the long, lonely day she’d had to pass by herself, and to make her less scared of the big changes that were coming to their lives.  
  
Stepping up to the dispensary, he pressed his thumb on the fingerprint pad and thought- not for the first time- how odd it was that Octavia’s finger would do nothing here. To everyone but him and his mother, she didn’t exist. But to him, she was the most vibrant thing alive.  
  
One of the mess hall workers read the screen in front of her, and he knew that the monitor was displaying his ration quota, among other things. The woman looked bored as she prepared his tray.  
  
“And I’d like to buy a block of chocolate,” he told her.  
  
The woman raised her eyebrows, glancing at the screen again. “Are you sure? That’ll deplete almost all your rations.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said impatiently. “I’m sure.”  
  
She tilted her head a little, and for the first time there was something in her eyes other than boredom. “So, you’ve got a sweet tooth. That’s an expensive thing to have.”  
  
“Look, they’re my rations,” he said, annoyed. “I can spend them how I want, right?”  
  
Her smile got bigger. “Of course you can. You misunderstand me- I wasn’t criticising your choices. But a boy from Factory with a sweet tooth is a boy that’s going to be disappointed more than not.”  
  
Bellamy drummed his fingers on the counter. “You got a point?”  
  
“No, I’ve got an offer,” she countered. “A job.”  
  
He was surprised. “A job?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t have time for a job… and I just wrote the cadet entrance exam, so I’m about to be even busier. Thanks anyway.”  
  
“This is a job you can do in your spare time,” she said, still smiling in a way he really didn’t like. “How old are you?”  
  
“Almost seventeen.”  
  
She laughed a little, then shook her head at him. “Old enough. How’d you like to earn four hundred ration points a week?”  
  
Bellamy’s eyes widened. That number was almost unfathomable- more than he was normally allocated in three months. He couldn't help but imagine all the things he could buy for Octavia. All the ways he could enrich her life. But he knew there had to be a catch. “Doing what?”  
  
“You’re a good-looking kid,” she told him, looking him up and down. “You a virgin?”  
  
His jaw tightened as he realised exactly where she was going with this. “I’ll just take my meal tray and my chocolate,” he said, his voice hard.  
  
The woman laughed. “It wouldn't be as bad as you think,” she assured him. “Just the first time, maybe. And I screen the clients very carefully.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m Nygel.”  
  
Bellamy slapped her hand away. “My tray and my chocolate,” he said again, his voice a growl. “And nothing else.”  
  
She chuckled a little, pushing over the tray, setting the block of chocolate on top. When he reached for it, she didn’t remove her hand. Instead she said, “It’s on the house. I won’t deduct for it.”  
  
“Yes you will,” he told her firmly. “I won’t be in debt to you.”  
  
He saw a brief flash of disappointment in her eyes, but then she just shrugged and said, “Shame. I’m offering you a great job with excellent security. That’s a lot better than your _mother_ has, going it alone like she does.”  
  
Bellamy wanted to punch her. He wanted to strangle her. But there were way too many people in this mess hall, and he’d be arrested and probably floated if he tried anything. Instead he just grabbed his tray, leaving the chocolate on the counter.  
  
“Relax,” Nygel said, rolling her eyes a little. She turned the screen towards him, where he could see his ration points were almost at zero. He grabbed the chocolate without a word, shoving it into his pocket as he charged out of the mess hall. He drew in deep breaths as he walked down the corridors, not sure if he wanted to cry or punch something or both.  
  
Octavia was waiting for him, clearly beside herself with nerves. “Bell!” she exclaimed, hurrying towards him. “How was it? Did you pass?”  
  
“Of course I did,” he said absently, pushing past her outstretched arms and setting the tray down on the table. “But we won’t know the official results for a few weeks.”  
  
“I’m not hungry,” Octavia said stubbornly, glancing at the food try, clearly hurt by his brush-off.  
  
_“Seriously?”_ he snapped, turning on her. “Do you know what I just went through to get you that?”  
  
She stared at him in surprise, and he could see tears gathering in her eyes. He let out a breath, shaking his head, forcing himself to relax.  
  
“I’m sorry, O. It was a really stressful test, that's all.” He pulled the chocolate from his pocket and held it out to her. “Here, I brought you something.”  
  
She approached him uncertainly, but her curiosity overrode her hurt feelings as she took the block from his hand. “What is it?”  
  
He forced a smile. “Try it- it’s good.”  
  
Octavia took a bite, and he watched her eyes light up. “Oh my God… what _is_ this?”  
  
“Chocolate,” he answered, his smile turning genuine.  
  
“Like the Mayans had?” she exclaimed excitedly, taking another bite. “For _real?”_  
  
He’d forgotten he’d told her that story, but he nodded his head and said, “Pace yourself. That’s more sugar than you usually eat in a month.”  
  
She tried hard to do as he said, but it was almost all gone within minutes. “Want the last bite?”  
  
“No, you have it,” he said. In truth he liked chocolate, had only had it perhaps three times in his life, but he was used to sacrificing for her. She finished it off, licking the last traces of it from her fingers and grinning at him.  
  
Bellamy laughed, sitting himself down heavily in one of the chairs. He started portioning out the food on the meal tray, giving them each half of what was meant to feed just one person. He was long since accustomed to always being slightly hungry, and the bigger Octavia got, the more that would happen.  
  
He found himself considering Nygel’s offer, just for one moment, and it shocked him. But Octavia was growing- the family just managed to get by on his and Aurora's rations now, but for how long? His own points would be increased slightly when he started cadets, but not significantly until he was a guard, and that would take years. How were they going to keep this up, if something didn’t change?  
  
“Bell?” Octavia was standing right next to him, her hand on his arm, and it surprised him- he’d been so lost in his own thoughts.  
  
He gazed at her for a long moment. Maybe he could do it- for her. She was worth anything. But the thought sickened him on so many levels, and he forced it out of his mind. As usual, he was able to push everything aside for Octavia.  
  
“I’m okay, O,” he assured her gently. He thought about pulling her into his lap, but she was getting too big for that. Even her eyes- they were different now. No longer the wise little eyes she’d had as a solemn toddler, but truly eyes that knew things. Had seen things. He knew a lot of that was their mother's fault, and it made his heart ache- that he couldn't shield her from everything, from the world. He wanted to so badly. She never left this room, and yet she was being exposed to so much.  
  
“Want to play?” she asked him finally, hesitant.  
  
He didn’t, but he nodded his head. “Sure thing. What do you want to do?”  
  
When she shrugged and looked at the floor, he knew she hadn’t really meant it, and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “This is everything we’ve been waiting for,” he told her, not sure who he was trying to convince.  
  
“Promise me nothing’s going to change,” she whispered, clutching him tightly. Seeming to realise that it was impossible for him to do that, she added, “At least… promise me that only good things are going to happen from now on.”  
  
He wanted to promise her that. He wanted to promise her _everything._ He wanted to take her outside this room and watch her dance down the halls of the Ark- that was still his deepest dream, his secret hope. But now, as he pulled back from her embrace and looked into those serious blue eyes, he just said, “I promise our lives are going to be better than this.”  
  
She looked at him like she trusted him more than anyone had ever trusted someone before. And he knew, with just as much certainty, that he would never- _could_ never- do anything to let her down. No matter what.


	30. 30- Octavia

The day was long and boring. It dragged on and on as she waited for Bellamy to come home, waited to hear about his first day of cadet training. She knew his schedule like the back of her hand- classes from 0800 to 1200, then physical training from 1200 to 1500, followed by weapons training from 1500 to 1800. It was a long day- longer than they’d normally spend apart. But she knew, now that Bellamy was a cadet, she’d have to get used to a lot more time alone.  
  
She knew it was for their future, that it was good, but she still hated it. It was hard to imagine a future world where all this would be behind them, where Bellamy would work normal hours and they could have a bigger home with a window that looked out on the stars.  
  
Octavia was eleven now. Old enough to think about the future, but also old enough to feel unfairness much more acutely than she had when her mind and body were smaller. She had been itching for a taste of the outside world for years, but lately she’d begun to obsess about it.  
  
It wasn’t fair, being locked in here. She hadn’t asked to be born. She hadn’t had any input into the one-child law that forced her to hide like some kind of shameful secret.  
  
Looking at the clock, she knew it would be more than an hour before Bellamy got back. More than one hour to kill, and she had played all her games three times already.  
  
Stepping into the bathroom, Octavia removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was cold today, but she didn’t mind. It was something to do, and the chilly droplets felt nice on her skin.  
  
Afterward, Octavia stood naked on the floor, not reaching for her towel yet. She had never seen the entirety of her body at one time, not in the little mirror that resided above their sink. Now she wiped the steam from the glass and looked at herself, into her own eyes.  
  
Her cheeks used to be chubbier. Now they were growing thinner, more angular, her chin lengthening out. Her eyes were still wide and youthful, her nose just a little upturned- maybe those features would always be part of her face.  
  
She stood on her tiptoes, so her chest appeared in the mirror too. Her neck was longer than it used to be. She ran her hand along her chin and down her throat, feeling the softness of her skin as she moved it lower, down across the ridges of her collarbones. She had noticed something lately- her chest was changing, the nipples now slightly protruding from her chest at the tips of soft swells, almost unnoticeable until she clutched them in her hands.  
  
Breasts- _real_ breasts. Or at least, the start of them. She grinned at her reflection, hardly believing that this was happening- she was going to be a woman, like her mother. One day, they’d be as big and beautiful as Aurora’s, although no child would ever suckle at her breasts as she could remember doing herself- Octavia had breastfed until she was five, and she half-remembered it, fondly.  
  
Stroking her hands over her nipples, she felt a tingling sensation shoot outward and then settle somewhere down low in her belly- this was something new, and something she’d only recently discovered, and she was still figuring it out. But she liked it. She liked, too, when she brushed her fingertips across the small tuft of hair that was sprouting between her legs, but she hadn’t yet braved delving any deeper. Her body was still largely a mystery to her, only hinted at in the stories she was told, never explicitly taught to her.  
  
After she’d toweled herself off and dressed again, she sat at the table and started combing her hair, opening up a photo on Bellamy’s old school tablet of a girl with a hairstyle she liked. When she was younger, she’d thought that all the pictures on his tablet were of people he knew, but it wasn’t true. They were just photos from his school textbooks, the covers of novels, or old archive photos from Earth. She’d never seen a picture of one of his friends.  
  
She tried to style her hair after the girl in the photo, but halfway through she paused, just staring at the photo. The girl was a bit older than her, thirteen maybe, and she was really pretty- soft skin, plump lips, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and big green eyes.  
  
Octavia wanted to be pretty. She wanted someone to look at her like men looked at the goddesses in mythology. She imagined kissing, what that might feel like, and sometimes she dreamt of being touched- someone else’s fingertips running over her skin, hugging her close.  
  
She knew she would never have any of it, and that knowledge was like a tender bruise on her heart- if she pushed too hard, it would break.  
  
Finally, the clock was only a couple of minutes away from when she expected Bellamy to walk through that door. She sat in her chair and pulled out some sewing, a small box of baby clothes that Aurora had been charged with repairing before they were due to be taken to the redistribution centre. Octavia pulled out one tiny little outfit, marveling at the smallness of it, trying to imagine how little a baby could actually be. It was almost unfathomable.  
  
She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the door handle, and for a moment her heart seized- like always- but then it relaxed again as her brother’s face came into view. He looked tired but he still smiled at her, shutting the door behind him and hanging up his cadet jacket before dropping into the chair across from her.  
  
He looked like a man, sitting in front of her. In a year he would be- legally. In a year he would be old enough to be floated for her existence. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night, gasping, frozen with fear, seeing his lifeless body being sucked out of an airlock. Despite the fact that she didn’t quite understand what that might look like, her imagination alone was enough to terrify her.  
  
“What’s that?” Bellamy asked her, taking the little outfit from her hands. It was a full body suit, soft and tiny, a zipper from the left foot to the neck. The zipper was coming loose and needed to be reattached in a couple of places, but otherwise it was in perfect condition.  
  
“Did I used to wear things like that?” she asked him.  
  
He nodded, smiling fondly down at the sleeper and then back at her. “For ages,” he said. “Even when you were a toddler.”  
  
“With feet like this?” she asked with a sly smile, reaching out for the closed-in foot and tickling it against his nose. She giggled as he snapped his teeth at it playfully, nodding his head.  
  
“Just like those,” he agreed. “When you were learning to walk you kept tripping over them, but you wouldn't wear anything else.”  
  
She blushed, laughing and turning away from him, feeling awkward for some strange reason. Bellamy picked up on it and tortured her, teasing, “Why are you so shy, huh?” He wriggled his fingers into her armpits, tickling, but she only laughed for a minute or so before she pulled away, self-conscious.  
  
“How was cadets?” she asked him.  
  
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Long and boring.”  
  
Just like her day. For some reason that made her a little bit happy, but she hoped he hadn’t said that for her sake. “Did you make friends?”  
  
“No, not really,” he said, and when he caught her disappointed look he laughed and said, “Don’t worry, I will.”  
  
“Did you learn lots of cool stuff at least?” she asked, her voice sounding more forlorn than she’d meant it to.  
  
Bellamy watched her for a moment, and then he stood up and held out both his hands, grinning at her. She took them suspiciously, smiling sideways at him as he pulled her to her feet and then took her right hand. Carefully he folded all her fingers into her palm except her index finger, and then he lifted her thumb so between the two of them it formed a kind of L-shape.  
  
“What are we doing?” she demanded, looking at her hand.  
  
“Just hang on,” he said, circling around behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, gently maneuvering her upper body, and then he lifted her arms, tucking her fist into her other hand so she was supporting her L-shape. Finally he ran his hands along her legs and planted her feet firmly on the floor, and then lifted up to grasp her hips, squaring them under her shoulders. She felt her heart pounding the whole time, but she didn’t know why.  
  
When all of this positioning was complete, he crossed to the front of her again and quirked up an eyebrow, a smile playing at his lips as he looked at her. “There, see, that’s a big part of what I learned today.”  
  
“But why?” she asked, confused.  
  
He tapped his fingers on her L-shape and said, “This is a gun, O.”  
  
She was surprised, and she gazed at her hand for a long moment, like she hadn’t seen it before. He chuckled at her, ruffling his hand over her hair. She blushed, dropping her pretend gun and letting her body settle back into its normal posture.  
  
“What?” he asked gently, seeing the creases in her brow and the way she was glowering at the floor.  
  
Octavia looked up at him hesitantly. She looked into his eyes- dark brown, gentle eyes that had first looked her into existence, welcomed her into the world and loved her every moment from then to now. Softly she asked him, “Are you going to shoot someone?”  
  
She watched his expression soften and he shook his head. “No, I’m not going to shoot anyone,” he told her. “Guards almost never discharge their weapons… maybe once or twice in an entire career. And actually shooting someone- hurting them- that almost never happens.”  
  
“Good,” she said, that old fear creeping up- that her brother would become mean, like one of those guards who inspected their quarters, who treated her mother like she was just a thing. But she knew he couldn’t be like those men. Not her Bellamy- not _ever._  
  
“This is the beginning of something better,” he reminded her, his voice soft. “Not something worse. Remember?”  
  
Octavia nodded her head. “And when you’re a guard?” she asked softly. “Then we’ll have our better home?”  
  
“Of course we will,” he answered her, his voice equally soft.  
  
“And then… can I… can I meet other people?” she breathed. “People you trust?” He looked absolutely shocked by the question, and she was afraid he’d get mad, that she’d gone too far. Her lip trembled and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Is that what you want?” he asked her, cradling her face in his hand.  
  
“I don’t want to be alone forever,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.  
  
Bellamy sat down on their mother’s bunk and took her hands, pulling her close to him, looking into her eyes. She looked at him, their faces almost parallel. She was getting taller, but so was he, his long legs folded up on either side of her as she stood in front of him now.  
  
“Is this alone?” he asked her softly, squeezing her hands. “Are you alone right now?”  
  
A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t realise she even felt like crying until she felt it. “It’s not the same,” she whispered.  
  
He watched her for a long moment, his eyes darting back and forth across her gaze, and then he seemed to sense how much this meant to her and he nodded his head. “Okay… okay, you’re right. I’ll figure it out, O, I promise.”  
  
“I don’t want to be alone, Bell,” she whispered again, her voice cracking. “I want to be free. I don’t want to be locked up anymore.”  
  
He seemed to be on the verge of panic, and she knew he couldn't solve this today- maybe not ever. But it was just too much, imagining that this life would be her only life- this room, or one slightly bigger, maybe a window if she was very lucky, but nothing else. No human contact outside of her family. No friends. No romance. No love.  
  
It was too depressing to even think about, so she closed her eyes, forcing the thought away. She whispered firmly, “I’m not afraid.” And then a little louder, “I’m not afraid.”  
  
Bellamy pulled her closer, laying his forehead against hers. His voice was vehement as he said again, “I’m going to figure it out, O. I will.”  
  
She opened her eyes, looked at the sincerity in his gaze, and she knew he meant it with every part of himself. But she was old enough to know now that meaning something and being able to do it were two very different things.


	31. 31- Bellamy

If he’d thought he was nervous at the entrance exam, it was nothing to how nervous he’d been on the first day of cadets. The kid who had taunted him that day, the one who’d had such excellent recommendation letters, was in his class, but the girl he’d taken into the vacant room wasn’t. Bellamy kept his head down, just doing the work, putting in more effort than anyone else. He didn’t care about impressing the other kids- it was the instructors who mattered. From this moment onward, if he had any chance of all of becoming chief guard one day, he had to be at his best. Better than his best.  
  
The pressure was overwhelming, but the promises to his sister and mother were much more important. He might buckle, but he wouldn’t break. He would do it all- do anything- to ensure that this succeeded. If he didn’t successfully complete the cadet program, they would all lose everything. He couldn’t let that happen.  
  
Constantly in the back of his mind was Octavia’s plea, her sad little voice saying to him, _I don’t want to be alone, Bell. I want to be free._  
  
It broke his heart.  
  
He’d hoped her longing for the outside world would develop slower, that by the time she got to the stage of wanting more, he could give it to her. He knew it was partly his fault, that he had planted those ideas in her head, but what was he supposed to do? Just give her nothing- no hope? No sense of wonder? Nothing at all to look forward to? If Aurora had her way, Octavia wouldn't know anything about anything. But Bellamy wanted to give her whatever he could- she had so little, after all.  
  
“Okay,” his instructor for the day- Shumway- spoke up, drawing Bellamy’s attention back to the class. “Who can name a capital crime?”  
  
There was a brief silence, and then one of the girls asked hesitantly, “Theft?”  
  
“Yes,” he answered, writing it on his tablet so it appeared on the screen at the front. “What else?”  
  
“Murder?” one of the boys said.  
  
“Yes,” he said again, but he didn’t seem particularly impressed.  
  
“All of them,” Bellamy called out. All eyes turned to him, since he rarely spoke out of turn. “They’re all capital crimes- everything anyone could ever do.”  
  
“That’s right,” Shumway said, seeming much more pleased with his answer than anyone else’s. Bellamy felt the glares of the other cadets, but he didn’t care.  
  
Underneath ‘theft’ and ‘murder,’ Shumway wrote ‘all crimes are capital crimes,’ and then ‘crime = floating.’ “What’s the one exception to that?” he asked the class.  
  
“If the criminal is under eighteen,” one of the others answered immediately.  
  
“That’s right,” he said with a nod. “Now. You might think, or people might have told you, that guards float people. That we want to catch people so that they can be executed. But that isn’t true at all.” He walked slowly through the class, looking at each of their faces. Bellamy remained impassive, listening intently. “Your primary task as a guard will be to _prevent_ executions. Things like preventing unrest, or identifying dangerous behaviour that could _lead_ to a crime- that is where we truly shine. But if someone does choose to break the law, then we need to be aware of that, and we need to act swiftly to keep the peace. Above all else we are peacemakers, ladies and gentlemen.”  
  
Bellamy thought about the guards who mistreated his mother, the ones who would lock kids up for stealing food to feed a starving family, float parents who did nothing more than have a second child, and he thought ‘peacemaker’ wasn’t much of an excuse for _that_ kind of behaviour. But he kept his face neutral, just the good cadet taking it all in and learning it well.  
  
“So,” Shumway went on, “it’s important that you are aware of the law, so you can protect it and so- in very rare occasions- you can enforce it. So we have theft and murder… what other examples can you give me of capital crimes?”  
  
They had soon named and written them all- in addition to theft and murder there was assault, battery, rape, arson, solicitation, treason, conspiracy, unauthorised reproduction, exceeding ration quota, gambling, possession and use of drugs, unauthorised gathering, disturbing the peace, or refusing the order of a guard.  
  
That was basically it. Bellamy knew his mother had committed at least three of those crimes, including having Octavia. It unsettled him, to know that she could be floated for any one of those crimes. That he, too, could be floated now, if Octavia was ever found and all the things they did for her became known.  
  
She was worth it, though- that he never doubted.  
  
What she _needed_ was other people. How long could he and his mother keep her happy? Just the two of them with her in that little room? She’d go crazy… she wasn’t even a teenager yet. She needed her own room, space to grow, a window to dream through… those seemed like such simple things, and yet the Council made them illegal. The Chancellor would float them all before he gave them any of it. That made Bellamy so angry, he wanted to punch something.  
  
But he was still in class, and on the outside he knew he had to appear to be a perfect student. Even the glares of the other kids couldn’t affect him- he couldn’t fight, not now. By the time he was far enough into his career to qualify for the position of chief guard, his record had to be perfect between now and then.  
  
After class, Bellamy went with the rest of the cadets to do physical training, working out in a gym. The whole time he was lifting weights or running on the treadmill, he was obsessing over a question that he wanted answered. But he was scared to ask it, too- scared it would draw suspicion to him.  
  
So when he heard a couple of boys in the locker room talking amongst themselves, asking similar questions about their lesson, he suggested they all go back and get clarification. They shrugged and went with him.  
  
Pushing through the classroom door, they found Shumway sitting at his desk with another instructor- Dollinger, his name was. The two men were sitting next to each other, holding hands as they ate together, smiling in a way Bellamy recognised as flirtatious, obviously quite infatuated with one another- so much that they hadn’t noticed their cadets waiting.  
  
“Excuse me… sir?” Bellamy asked politely.  
  
Shumway turned his head and nodded to the three boys standing in the doorway. He kissed the other man briefly, and then Dollinger moved out of the classroom. Bellamy gave him a respectful smile as he passed, before stepping into the room.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt.”  
  
“No problem,” Shumway assured them. “We have a spare class at the same time- we try to have lunch together when we can. What can I do for you three?”  
  
Bellamy remained silent while the other two asked their questions about the day’s lesson. One wanted to know whether _any_ order a guard gave had to be obeyed, or risk floating- the answer was that the guard’s order had to fall in line with one of the laws, or be given to protect the peace. Bellamy could see how easily something like _that_ could be abused, but he said nothing. The second cadet wanted to know what constituted conspiracy. Shumway explained it meant collaborating, colluding, or sharing secrets that would lead to the violation of one or more laws on the station.  
  
“What about you, Blake?” he asked.  
  
Bellamy steeled himself. As casually as the other cadets had asked their questions he said, “I’m confused about the unauthorised reproduction law. How is that enforced?”  
  
“Well,” Shumway answered, not seeming to think the question was at all suspicious, “The census is the big way. Once we’ve logged everyone, we have a hard copy of data to back up who’s doing what in terms of partnerships and the like. Then there are the reproductive implants that everyone gets at puberty.” Bellamy knew that’s why he didn’t have to worry about getting anyone pregnant, but now he wondered- how had his mother got around that? How planned had Octavia been, really? Shumway continued, “The only people who have a pregnancy implanted are those approved by the council, and twins are eliminated in vitro.” He shrugged. “It’s not that hard, really.”  
  
“But what if an implant fails?” one of the others asked. “What then?”  
  
“All women are tested for accidental pregnancies at their annual physical exam. If a woman has become pregnant without authorisation, it would depend on the situation. If she already had a child, then obviously the pregnancy would be terminated. If not, there are sometimes exceptions made, but not often. There’s a reason the medical staff handpick all embryos for implantation. This population has to be perfect, so when we do eventually go back to the Earth, we have the best gene pool on which to rebuild and expand humanity.  
  
Inwardly, Bellamy squirmed a little at the thought of all that control. He knew about it, of course, all those pieces, but hearing them all laid out together like that made him incredibly uncomfortable. And the worst part of all was the idea that Octavia was imperfect- that because she wasn’t cooked up in some petri dish like everyone else, she was flawed- when he knew that she was actually the most perfect one of all.  
  
Together the three of them left the classroom, heading to weapons training, but the whole time he was pretending to fire an unloaded gun and practicing hand-to-hand combat on mannequins, he was thinking about the unfairness of his sister’s life. A melancholy mood settled over him that he couldn’t shake, and he dragged his feet a little on the walk home, preoccupied by it.  
  
When he walked into his quarters, his mother was sitting at the table, and she pressed a finger to her lips. It was strange to see napping at this hour, but he could see her form in their mother’s bed, the blankets tucked around her. Softly Aurora told him, “Growing pains. She’s exhausted.”  
  
Bellamy hung up his guard uniform and sat down across from her.  
  
“How was school?” she asked him. He watched her needle going in and out of the fabric, her hands moving deftly, as they had for as long as he could remember.  
  
“Fine,” he answered, which was true. “We talked about the laws.” Also true.  
  
She looked up at him, her fingers still moving- she never needed to look. “Oh?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. Not wanting to tell her that it was him who’d asked- she’d freak out- he said, “A couple of the cadets asked how the one-child policy worked… like, how they enforce it.”  
  
He could hear the stiffness in her voice as she said again, “Oh?”  
  
Bellamy let out a breath. “Mom,” he said finally, tentatively. “Did you have her on purpose?”  
  
Aurora put down her sewing and stared at him. _“What?_ Of _course_ I had her on purpose.”  
  
He flushed, shaking his head. “No sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant…” he trailed off, feeling so awkward having this conversation with her. “I meant did you get pregnant on purpose. Did you plan her, or did you just keep her when you realised she was already there?” He had always assumed the latter, but now he wondered.  
  
“Bellamy Blake,” she warned him. “That is none of your business.”  
  
“So you did,” he said calmly.  
  
She glared at him, letting out a breath of exasperation. “If you _must_ know- no. I didn’t. Something must have gone wrong with my implant, but the moment I knew she was coming, I _wanted_ to keep her. I never considered anything else, and I never regretted that decision afterward. Is that what you want to know?”  
  
He knew she was lying, that she _had_ regretted it, at least once. He knew because he remembered something he was sure she thought he didn’t.  
  
  
_Their quarters were small- too small to hide anything. Unless you were in the bathroom, everything was public. So when Octavia had been a young toddler- in the throes of the terrible twos, as his mother called it- he had once woken up for no reason at all._  
  
_Sometimes, at that age, Octavia would throw tantrums. But her tantrums weren’t noisy, screaming fits like those of many kids. Even by two she knew intuitively that volume like that could never be tolerated. So instead she threw very efficient, very silent, very terrifying tantrums. She would clench her little fists, plant herself on the floor, and hold her breath until she turned blue and passed out._  
  
_The first few times she did it, he and his mother scrambled to try to get her to breathe, bribe her, yell- quietly- at her, plead with her, anything- but she always seemed fine afterward. Despite the dramatics of it, it didn’t seem to hurt her._  
  
_So that night, when Bellamy woke up for no reason, Octavia was lying in the middle of the floor, fast asleep. After one of those blue-faced tantrums, he and Aurora had just left her there, falling into an exhausted sleep themselves in their own bunks._  
  
_Now Bellamy could see the shape of his mother moving through the darkened room. Even when Factory was in its sleep period, the digital clock in the wall illuminated everything just a little, giving all their furniture a faint red glow. Aurora had a similar red glow to her now as she moved from their bunks, over to her sleeping daughter, and knelt by her side. Bellamy could see the red glow on her round, toddler cheeks as well. That must have been what woke him- hearing her stand up, get out of bed._  
  
_Now he watched her, kneeling next to Octavia. He watched her reach out and brush the wisps of brown hair back from her sleeping face. He watched her smooth her palm across her chubby little cheek. He watched her lean down and inhale the sweet baby scent of her. He watched her press her lips against her soft forehead, hold them there for a long moment._  
  
_Then he heard a sharp inhale of breath, and he knew that Aurora was crying._  
  
_It was only then that he saw the pillow in her hands. Saw her lay it gently on that sleeping face they both loved, with a surprising amount of tenderness. It shocked him- he found himself frozen in place as she leaned on the pillow, transferring all her weight through her arms, pressing downward. He saw Octavia go stiff, saw her little legs and arms start flailing._  
  
_Before Bellamy could react, before he could jump down from his bunk or scream at her to stop, she suddenly sat backward, yanking the pillow off and throwing it aside. She grabbed Octavia up in her arms, holding her to her chest, cradling her, rocking her, sobbing. Octavia turned her head, laying her cheek on Aurora’s shoulder, and Bellamy could see that her blue eyes were wide open, shocked and confused, eyes brimming with tears that didn’t fall._  
  
_Aurora staggered to her feet, still holding her daughter, and Bellamy quickly sat up, his little heart pounding. What would she do next? Would she throw the toddler against the wall? Drown her in the sink? Cut her throat? His mother seemed capable of anything in that moment._  
  
_She looked over, saw him watching her, and for a long moment they just stared at each other, as though neither of them could believe this was happening._  
  
_Then she crossed the little room and pressed his baby sister into his arms. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I just- I can’t tonight, Bellamy.” She didn’t look at him._  
  
_“It’s okay, Mom,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around his sister like they could be a fortress for her- she was his responsibility, always, no matter what, and he would keep her safe from anything bad- but for the first time in his life, he was shocked to find that his mother could exist in that category._  
  
_He stayed awake that whole night, and the night after, and the night after that. On the nights that followed, he would wake easily, at the slightest sign of disturbance. He only slept soundly when Octavia was wrapped in his arms, as safe and secure as he could make her. Always. It had taken weeks, if not months, to fully trust his mother with her again. But he had never forgotten._  
  
  
Gently, Bellamy reached across the table and covered Aurora’s hand with his own. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said softly, echoing those same words he'd said to her so long ago.  
  
She let out a breath, shifting a little, but then she gave him a tight smile and patted his hand. “Would you like to help me sew? It’s been a while.”  
  
Bellamy smiled at her, picking out an old shirt that needed mending. Despite how long it had been since he’d done so, it was easy to pick it up again- like all the most important things in life, he knew he would never forget it.


	32. 32- Octavia

“Mom, I’m hungry,” she complained, feeling an ache in her stomach that was becoming more and more familiar as she grew bigger and bigger and their rations stayed exactly the same. She knew that Aurora and Bellamy were giving her larger and larger portions of their own rations, so that all three of them were hungry together. Sometimes at night she heard their stomachs rumble, and occasionally she felt guilty for that. But having them give up for her was so normal, more often than not she didn't give it a second thought.  
  
Aurora was sewing, and Octavia knew that she’d heard her because her needle paused just for a moment, but she didn’t respond. She was doing what Octavia hated most- ignoring her. Glowering at the table, Octavia wanted to pick up her bit of sewing and throw it away, but she resisted the urge, knowing it wasn’t worth the anger that would cause.  
  
She stood up, crossing over to the small shelf that held basically all their belongings. Pushing things around, she tried to see if there was anything at all to eat- even one of those little ration bars would be good.  
  
After a minute of her clattering things around Aurora said, “There’s no food. Not until dinner.”  
  
Octavia looked up at the clock. “But that’s _hours_ away.”  
  
“Food doesn’t grow on trees,” her mother informed her. Which made no sense. Octavia had never even seen a tree in real life, and there was only one on the whole Ark anyway- the Last Tree, which Bellamy had tried to explain was sort of part of a religion, though not one the Blake family subscribed to. That made no sense to her either.  
  
“I’m so hungry,” she said, sinking back down into her chair. “There’s never enough.”  
  
“Drink some water,” Aurora suggested, an edge creeping into her voice.  
  
“There’s never enough of that either,” Octavia protested.  
  
“Stop it,” her mother snapped, putting down her sewing. “Be grateful for what you _do_ have, don’t complain about what you _don’t_ have.” Octavia glared at the table, but Aurora wasn’t finished. “Do you have any idea what your brother and I go through to keep you fed? _Any_ idea?”  
  
Of course she didn’t- they never told her. But was that her fault? She knew better than to answer the question.  
  
“Honestly, Octavia, sometimes I think you have no sense at all,” her mother complained. “No concept of how hard things can be.”  
  
“Well, I only have _concepts_ of what you _teach_ me,” she bit out, equally annoyed.  
  
“Mind yourself, Octavia Blake,” her mother warned- using her full name! That was a rarity.  
  
But for some reason Octavia couldn’t help but push it. “That’s not even my name,” she snapped.  
  
“What?” Aurora seemed taken aback. “What are you-”  
  
“That’s _not_ my name. I’m not a Blake.”  
  
She watched her mother’s hand rise up, watched her rub the space between her eyes. Bellamy did that too, sometimes. Finally Aurora said, “What are you talking about? Of _course_ you are.”  
  
“No I’m not. Bellamy named me Octavia but I don’t _have_ a last name. Only people who are real have last names, Mom.”  
  
“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” she retorted, her jaw tight. “Go to your bunk.”  
  
“I don’t even have one of those!”  
  
“Then go to _mine,_ or your _brother’s,”_ Aurora said, clearly absolutely shocked that Octavia was continuing to argue. In truth, she was a little shocked herself. Her mother waved her hand at the beds. “I don’t care which one, but go lay down and think about what you’ve done.”  
  
“What _have_ I done?” she snapped, shoving back from the table. “Disagreed with you? Told the _truth?”_ She stomped over to the bunks and stepped onto the ladder- she only needed the bottom rung now- before swinging herself into Bellamy’s bunk, bunching up his blankets and throwing them to the floor. She laid flat on her back, arms over her chest, glaring up at the ceiling of the cramped little space. It was barely comfortable just for her, and it was _never_ comfortable anymore when it was both of them. Only the fact that Aurora was often gone at night allowed Octavia any measure of a satisfying sleep- not that anyone cared. If she didn’t sleep well at night, she had the whole long, lonely day to catch up.  
  
Octavia felt so alone, so claustrophobic, so unfairly punished. She didn’t want to, but she started crying, pressing her hands against her eyes to try and stop it but failing miserably. Bellamy would have comforted her. But her mother just ignored her, making her feel even worse.  
  
The sound of her needle pushing through the fabric almost drove Octavia mad.  
  
She tried not to cry. She tried not to let the anger bubble, bigger and bigger, in her chest. But she couldn't stop any of it. Finally she let out a cry of pure frustration as she raised her foot and kicked her boot solidly against the far end of the bunk. “I hate you!” she yelled.  
  
Why did she even _wear_ boots? It’s not like she ever _went_ anywhere.  
  
Aurora jumped out of her chair so fast Octavia didn’t even know she’d done it until there was a hand clapped over her mouth. She looked into her mother’s dark brown eyes- Bellamy’s eyes, she reminded herself- and she could see the absolute rage in them.  
  
She realised, too late, that she’d gone way too far.  
  
Her mother’s voice was a hiss as she said, “Are you _crazy?_ You can’t _yell_ at me Octavia, no matter how upset you are. You can’t make any sound- you _know_ that.”  
  
It was so hard though, to be quiet for a whole day, let alone twelve long years. Sometimes she wondered- how had she done it as a baby? Had Aurora kept her in a soundproof box? Drugged her when she cried too much? She had wondered more than once, but she had never bothered to ask because she knew no one would tell her the truth. Not even her brother, who she had to admit tried to be honest more often than not.  
  
Twisting her face out of Aurora’s grip, she glared at her and bit out, “I’m still _hungry.”_  
  
“And you’re still in _trouble,”_ her mother answered evenly, her voice edged with the same venom that dripped from Octavia’s words. She went back to the table and sat down, returning to her sewing, tugging the needle through the fabric with angry flicks of her wrist. Octavia laid in the bunk, staring so hard at the ceiling that she felt it should explode.  
  
That went on for nearly two hours. It felt like a lifetime.  
  
Only when Bellamy came home did Aurora’s mood change. He came in, hanging up his cadet jacket, and she smiled at him, going to him, hugging him close for a moment. Octavia knew all that without looking.  
  
“O?” her brother’s voice came next, uncertain. She turned her head. He was obviously confused as to why she was laying in the bunk in the middle of the day, awake and glowering.  
  
“I’m starving and Mom won’t feed me,” she said, intentionally trying to agitate Aurora.  
  
It worked; her mother rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “She should know better. Rations are tight right now.”  
  
But Bellamy’s face had split into a wry smile. “Actually, I did bring you something. Both of you,” he said.  
  
Octavia brightened, rolling onto her side to wriggle out of the bunk, but her mother’s sharp look kept her there. Still a captive, even now.  
  
“What is it?” Aurora asked him.  
  
Bellamy still looked a bit confused, but from his pocket he produced a tiny, perfect watermelon, the size of his fist. He set it down on the table, going over to their bench and grabbing a knife. “Come on, O,” he said, perplexed by the fact that she didn’t move.  
  
“I’m not allowed,” she said, knowing how childish her own voice sounded, how scathing. “I’m in trouble.”  
  
Her brother’s eyes slid to Aurora. “What for?”  
  
“She screamed and pounded on the walls.”  
  
Octavia watched her brother stiffen a little as he asked, “Why?”  
  
“Because I was hungry and she wouldn't _feed_ me,” Octavia volunteered, still glaring at her mother.  
  
Bellamy was silent as he cut into the watermelon, cutting it into even slices. A sweet scent immediately filled their quarters, making Octavia’s mouth water. Aurora watched her son for a moment, then let out a breath and said, with surprising gentleness, “Come here, Octavia.”  
  
Fearing that she might change her mind, Octavia slid off the bunk and approached the table, looking at the juicy pink fruit in disbelief. It looked so fake, but it was so real. She picked up one of the segments, biting into it, and she could hardly believe the sweetness. Her anger was momentarily forgotten as she breathed, “Oh wow.”  
  
“Where did you get this?” Aurora asked Bellamy, watching him take a big bite out of his own slice.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I didn’t spend any rations. It was a gift.”  
  
“A gift from who?” she asked, eyes narrowing.  
  
He shrugged off the question. “Just a friend.” Pushing some slices toward her he said, “Here Mom- have some.”  
  
But Aurora shook her head and pushed them towards her daughter. “Go ahead, Octavia,” she said with a brief smile. “They’re all yours.” She glanced at the clock, and then to her son. “I have to go to work.”  
  
He looked at the clock too. “I thought you were on nights?”  
  
“I am, but I have a meeting first,” she said shortly, grabbing her sewing bag and packing it up.  
  
Octavia was watching them closely, reading every look that passed between them. She saw Bellamy’s jaw tighten, saw that he wanted to say something, but didn’t, knew that was because she was standing there.  
  
Aurora left without another word. Other than the thin slice Bellamy had, Octavia ate the whole watermelon. Bellamy never reached for more, and so she gobbled it all up happily. Later, she pretended not to hear his stomach growl as they stood together at the sink and brushed their teeth, because she didn’t want the sweet fruit to transform into a guilty feeling in her stomach.  
  
Afterward, Octavia climbed into their mother’s bunk and Bellamy pulled up a chair. He told her about the moonrise he’d seen on his way home from training, how the big gray orb was pock-marked but beautiful with its soft white glow. He described the way it crested the curve of the Earth, how it came into view slowly, getting bigger and bigger until it took up so much of the window it obscured much of the planet below. He told her about how the moon didn’t really rise at all, but the movement of the Ark in its orbit made it appear to.  
  
Bellamy explained how on Earth, their ancestors would watch the moon for all sorts of reasons- prophecy, the tides, the weather… even when their babies might come. He said that some cultures even believed the moon was a goddess, lighting the way for night travellers, bathing the planet in healing light. He told her about how some people used to believe that the sun and moon shared an unrequited love, each one chasing the other through the sky, the moon hiding its shy face when the sun was out, and the sun disappearing entirely when the stars- the guards of the moon- came out at night. He said that only in space could you see they were really together, always. That everything depended on perspective.  
  
Octavia had never seen a moonrise. She doubted she ever would. But because Bellamy painted them so well in her mind, brought them to life and described every detail of what he’d seen, she could almost swear that she’d been there.


	33. 33- Bellamy

“Today you’ll each be paired with a guard and taken on patrol,” they were told at the beginning of the day. “But I can’t stress this enough, people- you are there as _observers_ only. No interference. If you see something you think needs attention, alert your supervisor. You’re cadets- _not_ guards. Am I understood?”  
  
“Yes sir,” they all answered in unison. Bellamy was excited about this; it would be a nice change of pace, and while he didn’t mind the bookwork and studying so much, he enjoyed hands-on training even more.  
  
He was paired with a guard named Gottlieb, a blond man with such pale blue eyes they were nearly transparent. Bellamy didn’t know the man, but his reputation preceded him. Gottlieb was a man of justice, and he had one of the best records in the guard for arrests. Bellamy was eager to learn from him.  
  
“So this month my patrol is mostly in Factory, with parts of Mecha,” Gottlieb told him as they left the classroom together. “I heard you’re from Factory- is that going to be an issue?”  
  
“No, sir,” Bellamy assured him as they started to walk towards Mecha Station.  
  
“It’s unusual for a cadet to come out of those stations,” he remarked. “Good study ethic isn’t exactly valued amongst the workers. But Shumway tells me you’re work hard, you’re resourceful… and you’re smart.” He seemed almost surprised.  
  
“Well, sir, my mother has always told me that becoming a guard is one of the highest callings on the Ark,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed.  
  
Gottlieb smiled. “I can imagine. Getting a kid from Factory out of the workforce is quite a feat- your mother must be very… persistent.”  
  
Bellamy heard the innuendo in _that_ statement and he gritted his teeth, but inwardly he reminded himself that, like every day, he would be nothing but a perfect cadet. So he just said, “Yes sir, she is.”  
  
They soon arrived at Mecha, and Gottlieb turned to less personal topics as he explained to Bellamy about guard responsibilities- patrols, sweeps, inspections, and being the public face of law enforcement on the Ark.  
  
“When people see us, they see order,” he told Bellamy. “And safety. They see people who are sworn to protect them, to keep the peace, and to enforce the laws. Watch me.” He strode with a purposeful gait, his head held high and his hands folded behind his back. Bellamy had to admit, he looked imposing and in control, and he could see how people reacted to him- some definitely looked comforted by his presence, but others made a point to give him a wide berth as he walked. “Now you try,” he instructed.  
  
Bellamy put his hands behind his back and straightened his posture, assuming a neutral expression as he fell into step beside the guard. Gottlieb gave him a satisfied nod.  
  
As they walked through Mecha, Bellamy found his thoughts turning to Everly- someone he hadn’t given much thought to since he’d broken up with her four years before. He hoped she was okay. He hoped she’d forgotten about him.  
  
After they had covered a good quarter of the station, just walking the halls and putting in a noticeable presence, they moved on to Factory. “A lot of our job is just walking around,” Gottlieb told him. Bellamy knew that to be true, but he just nodded as though it was an interesting statement.  
  
On Factory, Gottlieb seemed to have more of a destination in mind, and the halls seemed to grow more and more familiar as they got closer and closer to Bellamy’s own quarters. He had a terrifying thought- _were_ they going to his home? Was there an inspection? One his mother didn’t know about? Was he going to ‘discover’ his sister, with Gottlieb? Then what?  
  
The thoughts made him sick, and although he knew his outward appearance hadn’t changed in the slightest, Bellamy’s mind was whirling with possibilities. If that happened, if they went to his quarters, Octavia wouldn't be under the floor. There was no reason to be. She would be out in the open, sewing maybe, or she’d be napping in one of the bunks. He would have to kill Gottlieb, then drag his body to one of the maintenance hatches off-limits to regular citizens and float him. But he was the last one with Gottlieb, so the suspicion would be on him immediately. The idea of killing the man, of having to cover it up, sickened him, but what choice did he have? If they went there, that was what he’d have to do. He eyed Gottlieb’s sidearm- no, too loud. He’d have to strangle him. The thought was frightening. And what about Octavia? Would she watch? Would he scar her for life? Would she ever be able to look at him again?  
  
“Blake,” Gottlieb’s voice broke through his thoughts. Bellamy looked at him, at his quizzical face. They’d stopped walking. They were standing in front of the door, and for a moment he had trouble focusing on the label- it said section 17… it _was_ his quarters.  
  
But no, it wasn’t. They were a good three housing blocks from his home. Still section 17, but where the Blakes lived in 20391, this was 24226- well away from home.  
  
The relief was overwhelming. But his expression was stoic as he asked, trying not to sound too guarded, “Sir?”  
  
“I said I have a job to carry out here- do you want to wait outside or do you want to learn?”  
  
“I want to learn, sir,” Bellamy said immediately.  
  
Gottlieb nodded- it was obviously the correct answer. “Good. Watch the master at work- this is the fun part of our job, kid.” He cracked his knuckles together, then knocked firmly on the door.  
  
A boy who was about twelve- Octavia’s age- answered the door, looking up at them with huge eyes. “Can I… help you?” he asked hesitantly.  
  
Pushing the door open and walking past the boy as though he was invisible, Gottlieb strode into the little room, nearly identical to Bellamy’s own quarters, but with a slightly different configuration. These were small family housing, like his own- for an unmarried parent with their child. The boy’s father was sitting at the table, and he stood up slowly as Gottlieb and Bellamy entered his home.  
  
“Can I help you?” he asked, echoing his son’s words in a much stronger voice, but Bellamy could see the distrust in his eyes. While most of the Ark might have looked at the guards as protectors and peacekeepers, on these stations, guards were known as the destroyers of families. Bellamy himself had often felt that automatic leap of fear in their presence- that any misdeed or dishonest thought, along with his sister in the floor, would somehow arouse the suspicion of one of the guards, and that would be it… the Blake family would cease to be. But for some reason, he had never prepared himself to be on the other side of those apprehensive looks.  
  
“Are you Bradley Hanson?” When the man nodded Gottlieb went on, “Well then you sure can.” He grabbed a chair and sitting down in it backwards, motioning for the man to sit back down. He did, his eyes shifting to Bellamy for a moment before turning his attention back to Gottlieb.  
  
When no one spoke, the man asked, “How can I help you?”  
  
Gottlieb flashed him a grin and then said, his voice calm, “You can tell me about your extra rations.”  
  
“Anthony,” the man said tensely, addressing the boy but not looking at him. “Go for a walk.”  
  
“No, Anthony, stay,” Gottlieb said, turning his head. “Stand in front of the door, Blake.”  
  
Bellamy did as he was told, and he knew very well that it was a threatening, intimidating thing to do. The boy looked up at him like he was frightening, but Bellamy had to keep his own face impassive as he met the kid’s eyes.  
  
“So,” Gottlieb said, almost conversationally. “Those rations.”  
  
“I don’t take extra rations,” the man answered, a tiny shake to his voice. Bellamy studied him, trying to figure out whether it was guilt or just that fear of guards that caused the tremble.  
  
“Of course you do,” Gottlieb said with a smirk. He pulled out a tablet and accessed the man’s file, turning the screen toward him briefly and tapping on it. “Look at this balance. There’s no way you’ve earned all that.”  
  
“I have,” the man insisted. “I’ve been saving.”  
  
“Why would you be saving?” Gottlieb asked evenly.  
  
“For my boy,” the man answered, his voice soft. “For my boy, because he’s growing… he needs more food.”  
  
It was a problem Bellamy knew well- he and his mother were always struggling these days to have enough, with Octavia on the cusp of her teens and Bellamy needing more and more food to feed the muscles he was building every day in the gym. But he showed no sympathy to either the man or his son. He couldn’t. He had to be a good cadet and keep his head down, for Octavia.  
  
“Every child on the Ark is growing,” Gottlieb told him. “Try again.”  
  
Hanson swallowed, glancing over at his son, then at Bellamy, becoming increasingly nervous. Softly he said, “Please… can we just send the boy out while we discuss this?”  
  
“Why are you so eager to get rid of him?”  
  
“I don’t want him to hear this,” Hanson replied. Now he turned his attention to Bellamy. “Please… just let him go.”  
  
“Don’t talk to him,” Gottlieb said, waving a hand in Bellamy’s direction. “He’s just a cadet… here to observe.”  
  
“Observe what?” Hanson asked apprehensively.  
  
Bellamy was growing increasingly uncomfortable, but he had no choice but to stand there stoically and pretend he didn’t think Gottlieb was a despicable power-hungry asshole, like every guard who ever came to their quarters for inspections, toying with them just because they could. Gottlieb was enjoying this. He could’ve just come in and arrested the man, but this game of cat and mouse seemed to be the icing on the cake for him. He was one of _those_ men.  
  
“Whatever happens,” Gottlieb answered evenly.  
  
Bellamy was growing increasingly uncomfortable, but he had no choice but to stand there stoically and pretend he didn’t think Gottlieb was a despicable power-hungry asshole, like every guard who ever came to their quarters for inspections, toying with them just because they could.  
  
Everyone in the room was surprised when the twelve-year-old was the one to speak up. Softly he asked, “What’s going to happen?”  
  
“Well, your dad here has been hoarding rations,” Gottlieb told him, his unnaturally light eyes still holding Hanson’s intently. “Getting them from illegal sources. What do _you_ think will happen?”  
  
Bellamy watched Anthony bite his lip, and it was clear he was trying not to cry. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Sure you do,” Gottlieb said, sounding almost disappointed. “Tell me something- is your dad over eighteen years old?”  
  
Anthony sucked in a breath but nodded his head.  
  
“Right, so what happens when anyone commits any crime and they’re over the age of eighteen?” he asked, his voice taking on that conversational tone again.  
  
Bellamy couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stay quiet. “Sir,” he said, forcing his voice to be calm, almost casual. “With all due respect-”  
  
“With all due respect you’re just a cadet and you’re going to keep your mouth shut?” Gottlieb cut him off, his blue eyes like ice as they finally peeled away from Hanson to look at Bellamy. But his humour and the thrill of the game seemed to fade and he stood up, motioning for Hanson to do the same. “Come on, stand up. You’re under arrest.”  
  
“Please,” the man begged him. “Please, my son… I’m all he has.”  
  
“He’s under fifteen,” Gottlieb said with a shrug. “That’s why we have the orphanage. They’ll take good care of him until he can join the workforce.”  
  
Anthony let out a gasp and he ran to his father, clutching at him, crying. Bellamy closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, Gottlieb was glaring at him. “Got a problem, Blake?”  
  
It was the hardest lie he’d ever told. “No, sir,” he said, walking over to the kid and pulling him away from his father, allowing Gottlieb to haul Hanson out of their home. The door closed, and Bellamy knew he’d be expected to follow with the kid, but he took a moment to look down into the boy’s eyes- full of tears. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, meaning every word.  
  
Then he hauled the boy out by his arm, an accessory to the ruin of a family, simply because they were hungry- like most people on Factory.  
  
Later, when Gottlieb returned him to his class, he told Shumway that Bellamy had acted admirably, and he was sure he’d make a fine guard.  
  
  
  
Bellamy was still feeling the ache of guilt in his stomach as he reached home that evening, pushing through the door. Octavia was on him immediately, her arms around him, her face looking up at his.  
  
Then she frowned. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” he said, and they both knew it was a lie. He shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up, and then sat down heavily in one of the chairs. “Just a hard day, that’s all.” He didn't want to even think about it so he asked, “What about you?”  
  
“I played some board games,” she said, sitting down across from him. “I read for a while.”  
  
“Yeah? What are you reading?”  
  
She shrugged. “It’s not very good. It has nothing to do with me.”  
  
He wondered whether anything she’d read had ever had anything to do with her at all, but he pushed the thought aside. “Well let’s do something fun.”  
  
“Like what?” she asked, brightening.  
  
“Anything you want.”  
  
She thought about it, then said, “Hide and seek.”  
  
It was a silly game that they were both too old for, but he knew she was choosing it to help him let go of the stress of the day and just be silly- and he was grateful for it.  
  
Hide and seek had always been a bit ridiculous, even when they’d first started playing it when she was two and believed that standing, perfectly visible, behind the table was an excellent hiding spot. Bellamy remembered spending hours as an eight-year-old pretending to be stumped over and over, often only finding her when she gave herself away. As she’d grown older, the possible hiding spots only dwindled, and now at twelve and eighteen, it was completely ridiculous to even try.  
  
But that was the point, and they were both soon laughing and laughing as they ‘found’ each other in more and more hilariously obvious places. Then, the next time Octavia had her eyes closed, counting earnestly, Bellamy snuck right up to her so that the second she whispered “Ready or not!” and opened her eyes, he was right there. She gasped, stumbling backward in surprise. He caught her, laughing, and then he started tickling her, drawing peals of soft giggles from her lips.  
  
Somehow, Octavia’s laughter always had a way of calming him right down, healing him and allowing him to push aside any of the stresses currently on his mind- because there was always something.  
  
He let her tickle him back, let her make him laugh and try to twist out of her grip, and let her tackle him to the floor so he was laying on his back. She knew from experience that he wouldn’t be able to escape so easily that way, as she wriggled her fingers into his ribcage and armpits until he begged for mercy, capturing her wrists in his hands.  
  
“Truce, truce,” he said, still chuckling. Octavia promised not to tickle him, but he held onto the wrist of her right hand just in case. She rested her other elbow on his chest and propped herself up on it, lying on her stomach on the floor, still giggling. He smiled at her, reaching up a hand to brush her hair back over her ear, stroking her cheek affectionately with his thumb.  
  
Suddenly she stopped laughing, went silent, looked deadly serious. He was so sure she was going to ask him an uncomfortable question, as she often did, and he prepared himself for that. But instead, she just leaned toward him with this look in her eyes- a look he’d seen plenty of times, on plenty of faces, but never on _hers._ She was looking at him with something close to nervousness, her teeth catching her lower lip as her eyes darted side to side, searching his gaze.  
  
He had absolutely no doubt that she was about to kiss him.  
  
Bellamy froze, not moving, not breathing, his free hand dropping from her face, the other one letting go of her wrist, just staring at her- stunned, dumbfounded, that such a look could come out of his baby sister’s eyes.  
  
How had this happened? Who _was_ this girl?  
  
Where was the newborn he’d rocked, whispering secrets into her seashell ears? Where was the baby who’d curled into his heart, strapped to him in a makeshift sling, her soft breaths tickling his chest? Where was the toddler who took careful, teetering steps across their quarters, making his heart painful with pride as she flung herself, triumphantly, into his arms? Where was the little girl, all knees and elbows, who’d tucked herself into his body night after night, curling into him like a baby in a womb? Where was the child who’d clung to his shoulders, spurring him on through adventures, across deserts and through jungles, whose big eyes grew wide with wonder at a world neither of them would ever see? Where was the determined kid who folded herself into the floor and made herself brave until he could open the sky for her, trusting him with a trust that bowled him over and made him love her with everything that he had, again and again, forever?  
  
He knew the answer- she was growing up. He also knew he wasn’t ready for it, not even close. Maybe he never would be.  
  
Bellamy’s disbelief lasted only a moment and then he recovered himself, putting his hand on her shoulder, stopping her rapid descent before their lips could connect. He pushed her off him, off to the side, as he straightened up.  
  
Octavia scrambled to her feet as well, and she just stood there for a long moment, eyeing him with apprehension. Finally she whispered, “Sorry.”  
  
He just kept staring at her, and he knew he was looking at her like he’d never seen her before, like she was some kind of alien, and he could see in her eyes that it hurt her. But what surprised him most was that his overwhelming feeling was one of anger- not at Octavia but at their mother- for exposing her to this, putting that kind of idea in her head. Where else would she have gotten it?  
  
His sister glanced away from him, obviously catching his expression and not liking it, maybe thinking he was angry at _her,_ but he couldn't find any words to reassure her. He didn’t know how to make this better.  
  
“Octavia, you can’t _do_ that,” he said finally, the words coming out more harshly than he’d intended.  
  
He watched her cringe, and then she whispered, “I know.” She was looking at the floor.  
  
“Then _why?”_  
  
She shrugged and muttered, “I don’t know.” She still wouldn't look at him.  
  
Bellamy had no idea what to do, or how to get them out of such an awkward moment. He didn’t want to admonish her again, but he couldn't just follow this up with an offer for a pony ride or a game of pretend. She was too old for those games anyway-maybe even more than he knew.  
  
But it was Octavia who broke the tense silence.  
  
“Homework?” she asked finally, her voice soft. It was the last thing he’d expected her to suggest, but it showed that she wanted to move on as much as he did.  
  
“Yeah,” he said, grateful. “Good idea.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head as though he could dispel his discomfort. He grabbed his schoolbag, pulling out his tablet and handing it to her. “It’s legislation,” he warned her, knowing how bored she was of learning the law, but she didn’t complain.  
  
They worked together in silence. Bellamy was lost in his own thoughts, letting her do most of the work, just helping her with the harder questions. He was distracted, preoccupied, and felt a sinking sense of dread. Things were changing and he didn’t know how to stop it. And his anger at Aurora was all-consuming.  
  
Between destroying a family that could have just as easily been his and trying to navigate this strange and uncomfortable moment with his sister, it had been an incredibly stressful day.


	34. 34- Octavia

Bellamy was asleep, and Aurora was at work, but Octavia was wide awake, lying on her back, looking up at the ceiling of her mother’s bunk. She was watching Bellamy, though he didn’t know it. She imagined him, curled into the wall of his bunk on his side, his knees slightly raised, or maybe on his back like she was, one arm tucked behind his head, his muscles a pillow, his soft curls splayed on his forehead. He looked like a little boy in sleep, with his tousled hair and dusting of freckles, his face relaxed after the day’s stresses- but he wasn’t a little boy at all.  
  
He was a man, and Octavia had noticed.  
  
Her attempt to kiss him had been a colossal failure, and she had been thinking of it obsessively since then. The truth was, she hadn’t meant to do it. It had just happened, the desire overwhelming her as she’d looked into his eyes and gazed at his lips that looked so kissable.  
  
Bellamy thought it was their mother’s fault, but it wasn’t. The times she’d witnessed Aurora’s transactions with her male clients had been frightening, and she didn’t connect that at all with her timid explorations of her own body, or the feelings they elicited. No, her desire to kiss Bellamy that day had come from a very different place- partly from the stories she read, and partly from her own pure curiosity, as innocent as it was persistent.  
  
Being one of her few diversions, literature was a thing Octavia had quiet a lot of access to. Bellamy and Aurora both brought her large data files full of books that she could load on Bellamy’s old school tablet, and she was a voracious reader. Some of her favourites were filled with epic romances, love, and yes, sex. Book sex, so it was caringly written, sensual and flowery- everything she imagined it to be. She had made almost no connection between the acts described in those lovely stories and what her mother did with the men she occasionally had to entertain in their quarters. The storybook romances were beautiful and tender, something she wanted for herself.  
  
And Bellamy- well, the truth was, she had thought about him like that, even before her attempt to steal a kiss. She loved him more than anything, more than she could ever imagine loving anyone… more, even, than characters loved each other in the books she read. She _knew_ he loved her too. So on that day, when she’d leaned in and tried to kiss him, she hadn’t really thought beyond that. She wanted to try, and he was safe, someone who cared about her and who could never, ever hurt her.  
  
When she’d been little, she’d wanted to marry Bellamy. But she’d never understood what that meant- not really. Just that they would be together forever, and marriage seemed logical to her young mind. In some ways she had come to understand why that wouldn’t or couldn’t happen, but she was still a bit murky on the details. In her storybooks, especially mythology, which she adored just like the rest of her family, brothers and sisters getting married was no more blinked at than women who could transform into animals or men who carried the whole universe in their throats.  
  
Octavia knew, now, that those things didn’t exist. And so she knew, too, that she couldn’t marry Bellamy. It was just that sometimes, like right now, she laid awake thinking about it. His lips, and how they would feel against hers. His strong hands holding her in a way that was different from the hugs and cuddles he gave her now. How he looked under his clothes.  
  
She didn’t mean to, it just happened. She supposed that if she had known any other person on the whole Ark, she wouldn’t think this way about Bellamy. But the only other people she’d had even a fleeting glimpse of had been the scary monster guards who came to turn her family’s lives upside down. She certainly didn’t want to fantasise about _them._  
  
Bellamy was the person she loved best. He was the safest thing she knew. So when she thought of scary, unknown, thrilling things like exploring the Ark or kissing, it was him she imagined doing them with.  
  
But judging by his reaction the day she’d tried to press her lips into his, she knew he didn’t feel the same way. It hurt, somewhere deep, but she tried not to let that show. She’d noticed that since that day, he looked at her differently- sometimes like she was radioactive, other times like she was the prettiest mystery he’d ever known. His eyes on her made her heart do little flips, and she could spend an entire day obsessing about what he’d meant by a particular comment, or replaying the time his hand stroked over her hair while they were doing homework. It was all so silly, every gesture or moment that had once been so innocent and commonplace now loaded with cryptic meaning. It was also confusing, and she didn’t know what to do about any of it.  
  
Now, with her brother’s soft sleeping breaths above her, Octavia quietly rolled out from Aurora’s bunk. She crouched there for a moment, making sure she didn’t wake him, but there was no change in that breath she knew so well.  
  
She missed tangling up with him in his bunk, tucking into his warmth, but he’d declared that there wasn’t enough room and she was too old for that anyway, shortly after she’d tried to kiss him. She’d had to pretend that it didn’t hurt badly to hear him say that, to deny her their nightly cuddles. Even though there was a part of her that had tried to kiss him, there was also a part that just wanted to curl into him and be his child forever. It was very confusing, and she wished she had more options, so he could be the target of some of those feelings, but not all.  
  
She straightened up, her head tall enough now that she could come face-to-face with him as he slept. Octavia was aware it was a bit creepy what she was doing, but this was the only time she could just watch him now, drink him in, without having to explain herself, or worry about his reaction.  
  
He was just how she’d imagined him, laying on his back, his arm thrust up above his head, his hair messy from the pillow. His freckles were cute, his soft dark eyes closed but his generous lashes making up for their absence. Yes, he was still her brother. And yes, she still wanted to kiss him. So yes, she was still confused.  
  
Making a snap decision, Octavia stepped onto the bottom rung of the ladder, swinging herself over to his bunk and crawling up beside him. She almost fell off, there was so little room, the very edge of the bunk ledge digging into her hipbone, but she just pressed herself close to him so she wouldn’t fall.  
  
In sleep, Bellamy’s arm dropped, automatically curling around her, pulling her closer. She laid her cheek on his chest, over his heart, listening to the familiar rhythm of it, letting out a long breath of relief as it calmed her like nothing else in the world could, except maybe her mother’s hands.  
  
“O?” Bellamy whispered, suddenly awake. He didn’t let her go but she felt his body tense a little and she felt a stab of guilt and disappointment as she turned her face to look up at him. His brow was knitted together in a way that made her want to reach up a hand and smooth it away, but she knew he wouldn’t like that. “Did you have a bad dream?” he guessed, his hand rubbing her back gently.  
  
It would have been so easy to say, _Yeah, Bell, I had a bad dream. It was awful. I’m scared- can I sleep with you? Please?_ He’d let her, she knew he would. But she didn’t want to lie to him.  
  
So instead she just said, “No. Can I sleep with you?”  
  
She saw the war erupt in his eyes. “Octavia…”  
  
“Please, Bell?” she asked him softly, telling the truth. “I miss you.”  
  
“You’re getting too old-”  
  
“Says who?” she cut him off.  
  
He let out a breath but then relented, flattening himself against the back wall of his bunk, letting her curl herself into his arms, one of them her pillow, the other draped over her side. “Better?” he asked her softly.  
  
“Much,” she agreed. After a moment she asked hesitantly, “Bell…?”  
  
“Yeah?” His voice was just as hesitant.  
  
“I’m really sorry,” she said, her eyes filling with tears before she even knew she felt like crying. “I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“Hey,” he said softly, curling his fingers under her chin, looking into her eyes. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“I didn’t mean to screw everything up,” she said, the tears spilling down her cheeks as her voice broke. “Do you hate me?”  
  
“Octavia,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. He hugged her closer, tucking his chin into her shoulder as his hand stroked her hair for a moment, then rested on the back of her neck, squeezing gently. “You know I could never hate you.”  
  
“Then what?” she whimpered. “Are you punishing me? I didn’t mean to do that, it just happened. Don’t be mad, okay?”  
  
“I know,” he said softly, his voice soothing now. “I know, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you, O.”  
  
He wasn’t? “Then what?” she asked, even more confused now.  
  
She heard his breath release, felt it tickle against her neck, warm. “I have to protect you,” he said finally. “From everything.”  
  
“I know that,” she said, her brow furrowing in confusion. She couldn’t figure out what he meant, or what that had to do with what they were talking about.  
  
“So we can’t do anything like that,” he went on. “Or that would be… I don’t know, it wouldn’t be protecting you.”  
  
Octavia didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to push. “It’s okay, Bell, I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again, I promise.” She didn't know if she could really ignore all those feelings, push them all down deep in her belly, but she just wanted this back. He’d been avoiding touching her so much that she was starved for his physical contact, and she hadn’t even known it until now.  
  
His sigh was so long it made her feel melancholy as he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s this life.”  
  
“And that’s not _your_ fault,” she reminded him lovingly. She knew he would take on every burden in her life and make it his if he could, but she wouldn’t let him. They were both only doing their best, and so was their mother, she knew.  
  
Bellamy gave her a soft smile that made her stomach flutter, but she pushed that aside and just smiled back at him. “Does that mean I can stay?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him.  
  
“I said you could, didn’t I?” he grumbled good-naturedly, giving her a squeeze. He reached down for the blanket, pulling it across both their bodies and snuggling her into their chest.  
  
There really was hardly any room, and it was all a bit ridiculous, but Octavia soon fell asleep with a big smile on her face anyway.  
  
  
  
In the morning, she woke still curled into Bellamy’s bunk, but he was gone, off to an early start at cadets. Aurora either wasn’t home yet or had been and gone, so Octavia was alone. She got out of bed, stretching out a back ache she’d gotten from sleeping in such a cramped way- but she didn’t care, she’d still slept much better than she ever did alone.  
  
It was a hot water day, and Octavia intended to make full use of that. She undressed, standing in front of the mirror naked as she brushed her teeth. Her breasts were getting bigger, and she often stood on tiptoes to examine their progress in the mirror, standing sideways and pressing her chest out to get the full effect. They were by no means impressive, but they seemed so to her.  
  
Once her teeth were clean, she ran the hot water and stepped inside the shower, letting the warmth cascade over her skin as she closed her eyes and just enjoyed the feeling. She leaned back, letting the water concentrate between her legs, as she’d done a few times recently. It felt good, spreading a nice tingly feeling through her lower belly. It didn’t work when the water was cold, but when it was warm like this it brought a delicious flush to her chest. She kept her eyes closed, lifting a leg and pressing a knee against the inside of the shower to let the water flow more intensely between her legs. A small sigh escaped her lips, surprising her, but it felt good to make the sound so she did it again.  
  
Finally, she had to stop- the water always made a knot of tension in her stomach, and she didn’t know how to relieve it yet, but otherwise it was definitely a pleasurable experience.  
  
Then her eyes fell to the floor as she reached for the shampoo, and she froze, her heart seizing with fear and her eyes going wide.  
  
Down on the bottom of the shower, mixed with the water, there was blood. Octavia reached down quickly, pressing her fingers between her legs and then pulling them out. Yes, it was blood, and it was definitely coming from there.  
  
What had she done? She’d hurt herself! It didn’t feel painful, and she didn’t know how water could hurt her, but it obviously had.  
  
Stumbling to shut off the water, Octavia quickly stepped out of the shower and sat down on the toilet. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself, pulling in big breaths, trying to calm down.  
  
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered under her breath, over and over until she believed it. Only then did she dare to take a bit of tissue and dab it between her legs.  
  
There was still blood. It hadn’t stopped. And now she noticed an ache, low in her belly, deep and dull.  
  
Oh no. She’d done this, somehow- the water, the tense knot of pleasure, it had broken something inside her and now she was bleeding. Was she going to die?  
  
“I’m not afraid,” she reminded herself, insistent. “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid.”  
  
She sat there, on the toilet, freezing and scared, until her mother finally got home. It felt like all day, but it was probably only an hour. She knew it was her mother and not Bellamy because she heard her set her sewing kit down on the metal table.  
  
A moment later, there was a knock on the door. “Octavia?” she called softly, sounding confused.  
  
“Mom,” she whispered back, and her voice broke as her last bit of calm faded away. She _was_ afraid.  
  
Aurora opened the door and saw her sitting there, naked but for the towel, shivering, crying. “Are you sick?” she asked. Then her eyes fell to the floor and she saw the drops of blood that led from the shower to the toilet, drops that Octavia had been too scared to wipe up. Her concerned eyes locked on her daughter as she asked, “Are you hurt?”  
  
“Yeah,” Octavia managed, the tears starting. “I hurt myself in the shower.”  
  
“How?” Aurora asked her, hurrying over and crouching in front of her, looking her over. “Where? Were you trying to shave?”  
  
Shave? The question momentarily surprised Octavia out of her tears. _Should_ she be shaving?  
  
“No, Mom…” She trailed off, her face flushing red as her eyes fell to the floor. “I’m bleeding. I don’t know why. And my stomach hurts.”  
  
“Bleeding _where?”_ Aurora asked, impatient with worry and confusion.  
  
Octavia met her eyes, mortified.  
  
All at once, her mother seemed to understand, and her face completely changed into something Octavia couldn’t read.  
  
“Oh sweetheart,” she said, shaking her head, rubbing a thumb and forefinger in the space between her eyes. “I’m sorry, I should have…”  
  
Letting out a breath, she went to the cupboard and got out one of the cloths that would normally be used for washing their faces. She folded into a neat rectangle and picked up Octavia’s discarded underwear, pressing the cloth into the crotch. “Here, put these on and come back out, and we’ll talk,” she said tenderly, pressing her lips to the top of her daughter’s head. “You’re okay,” she assured her gently, before leaving her alone.  
  
Utterly confused, Octavia did as she was told and, still wrapped in her towel, she left the bathroom and found her mother sitting at the table. She sank into the chair next to her, letting Aurora smooth a hand over her still-damp hair.  
  
“Mom, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice small.  
  
“This is my fault,” her mother said, confusing her further. “Women on the Ark… the contraceptive implants they give us, they stop all that. I never even thought about…” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I should have realised this was going to happen.”  
  
Octavia was about a hundred times more confused. “What are you _talking_ about?”  
  
And then Aurora explained- about natural reproduction, about periods, about how the girls on the Ark didn’t have to deal with what Octavia was going through now, that no babies were made that way anymore. But because of course she didn’t have an implant, she would have this every month from now on. That it was part of getting older.  
  
“But can’t you just _get_ me one?” Octavia begged, feeling like a freak, like she was cursed, even more different from everyone than she’d been before.  
  
“No,” her mother said simply, shaking her head. “That would be next to impossible. Even if I _could_ steal one without getting caught, it has to be specially inserted.” She reached for her daughter’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Think of it this way, Octavia- you’re the only one of us who’s truly normal.”  
  
But she felt the exact opposite of that, and glowered at the table as her mother stood, restocking her sewing kit from the containers on their counter. “Don’t worry, Octavia, it’ll be over in a few days.”  
  
“And then be back again next month,” Octavia groaned. _“Forever.”_  
  
“Yes,” Aurora agreed. “But there’s nothing we can do about that, so there’s no use getting upset about it.”  
  
It was exactly what she said when her daughter was starving and there was no food, and Octavia hated the line as much now as she ever did.  
  
She wanted to destroy something for the unfairness of it all, yet another thing that made her abnormal and strange. She just wanted to be normal, but that was never, ever going to happen. Folding her arms on the table, she dropped her face into them and cried.  
  
“That’s part of it,” her mother said, reaching over to stroke Octavia’s hair briefly before going back to her work. “Mood swings. I’ll get you a book on it.”  
  
That made her even more miserable, her feelings belittled and dismissed. She cried until she had no tears left, and then she felt exhausted. Without a word to her mother, she went to Aurora’s bunk and curled herself into the wall, closing her eyes.  
  
  
  
When she woke again, her mother was gone and Bellamy was sitting at the table, reading quietly from his tablet. He looked up when she rolled over. “Hey, O,” he said softly, his eyes concerned. “Mom said you weren’t feeling well."  
  
“I’m not,” she agreed, stroking her hand low on her belly, where that dull pain persisted, occasionally tightening into what felt like a muscle cramp. “My stomach hurts.”  
  
“Want me to cuddle you?” he offered, his eyes full of nothing but love and sympathy.  
  
But Octavia felt dirty and disgusting, freakish and gross. She rolled over again, tucking herself into the wall. “No, Bell,” she said shortly. “You were right. I’m too old for that.”  
  
Even through the silence that engulfed the little room, she could feel his hurt like a shiver on the back of her neck.


	35. 35- Bellamy

“What do you mean, I don’t have enough?” he demanded of Nygel, glaring at her through the glass of the mess hall booth. He pressed his thumb against the scanner once more. “Check again.”  
  
She turned the screen to face him. “See this?” she asked, tapping her finger against where his rations were displayed- almost depleted.  
  
“What about my mother’s?” he asked.  
  
“Hers are even worse,” Nygel told him, turning the screen back. She gave him a sickly kind of smirk. “Didn’t you and I have a conversation about this a couple of years ago? You’re eighteen now, right? I can still help you out.”  
  
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied, pushing one of the two food trays back to her. “I have enough for one, right?”  
  
“Right,” she said with a nod, still smiling. “But what about tomorrow?”  
  
He’d figure out tomorrow, tomorrow. What else could he do?  
  
Nygel opened her mouth to say more, but Bellamy grabbed the tray before she could, jerking it away from her hands and then stalking out of the mess hall and straight back to their quarters.  
  
Octavia was waiting for him. At nearly thirteen she was growing taller, but also hungrier. He set the tray down on the table and said, “Dinner.”  
  
She was starving, so she wasted no time sitting down and digging in. He was hungry too, but he wasn’t going to touch that food, not when she needed it. He would charm one of the girls in his cadet class tomorrow, and she’d buy him lunch. Until then, he’d just have to be hungry.  
  
“Are you okay?” Octavia asked him, pausing as she looked up at him. “Where’s your dinner?”  
  
“One of my classes ran late and I didn’t eat lunch until almost the end of the day,” he said, the lie falling easily off his tongue. He glanced at the clock, knowing his mother would be home soon and expecting dinner. “Eat up,” he urged his sister, getting a glass and refilling it three times to quiet the ache in his stomach. He went back to the table and sat next to her, finally able to relax enough to smile at her. “How was your day?”  
  
“Good,” she said with a smile. “I read a lot. And I did math- algebra.”  
  
Bellamy nodded, but he was surprised. “Just for fun?”  
  
She shrugged. “Since you started cadet classes I’ve forgotten stuff.”  
  
Chuckling a little he nodded and said, “Yeah, you and me both.”  
  
“You can do some with me after dinner if you want,” Octavia offered.  
  
“No, I’m good, thanks,” he said, tossing her a wink. “You can enjoy unnecessary math homework for the both of us,” he teased. She giggled, going back to her food tray. He could see how hungry she was with how fast she was eating, so he reached a hand out, touching her wrist gently. “Slow down.”  
  
The door opened, and Aurora walked in, looking as tense as he felt. He stood, and their eyes met. “I know,” she said immediately.  
  
“How?” he demanded.  
  
“You know they reduced my hours at the factory,” she said. “And there isn’t a lot of extra sewing to take in right now. Everything’s tight, so people can stand to go threadbare for a bit longer than usual.”  
  
Bellamy knew it wasn’t only their family that was suffering since Jaha had become Chancellor, one of his first acts being to reduce the hours and resources of the working classes, who he claimed ‘overspent’ and were ‘overworked.’ But with three mouths to feed on rations allocated for only two, their family was suffering more than most.  
  
“What about your other stuff?” he asked her, his voice low.  
  
Aurora looked surprised that he’d bring that up so directly, but she just said, “Not at the moment. Nobody has any rations to spare.”  
  
“Then maybe you need to go outside Factory,” he suggested.  
  
Octavia was watching them now, listening carefully, so his mother took him by the arm and pulled him as far away from her as she could. “I have to be careful,” she said quietly. “Jaha’s increased security too. There are a lot of new eyes watching for that kind of thing.”  
  
“Well we have to do _something,”_ he said. “I could only bring home one meal tray today.”  
  
“I know,” she said, turning her attention to her bag as she fished around, pulling out a ration bar. They were disgusting, but they had calories. “Have this,” she said, pressing it into his hand.  
  
He knew he had to be strong for cadets, so he ate the whole thing, not even offering her any, feeling guilty for it, but these were desperate times. At least Octavia was fed.  
  
Aurora patted his cheek as he finished the bar in two bites. “This’ll pass. Jaha’s a new Chancellor, and he has to show that he’s making changes. Things will settle down soon, and they’ll relax security again.”  
  
Meanwhile, looking up from her empty tray of food, Octavia said, “Mom? Did you bring anything? I’m still hungry.”  
  
Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut. She had no idea.  
  
He was scared- really scared. It had been a while now that his mother had been promising she’d figure something out, that they’d relax security, increase rations again. None of that was happening, and Octavia was growing more than ever.  
  
“I’m going to the gym,” he said suddenly to Aurora, just needing to do something to stave off his hunger. Plus, sometimes people left food in the locker room, something he’d had to learn recently. “I’ll be back later, O,” he promised, not even waiting for her to reply before he was outside in the corridor.  
  
But instead of the gym, he found himself in the mess hall again. Swallowing his fear, his pride, and a hell of a lot more, he walked up to Nygel’s window and said, “So how does it work?” He could hardly believe he was standing there at all, but she didn’t seem at all surprised.  
  
“Well, that all depends on you,” she said. “How much you’d like to earn, how often, and what you’re willing to do.”  
  
He let his eyes close briefly, mostly to quiet the automatic revulsion that rose in his throat when she said that. When he opened them again she was still looking at him smugly, but he figured he just had to think of it as business. “How much can I earn if I do it once?” He wasn’t interested in a career, just enough to feed his family until this blew over.  
  
“I can get you a hundred ration points tonight,” she said.  
  
Bellamy stared at her. That was a month’s supply for one person. “Are you full of shit?” he asked her honestly.  
  
“Not at all,” she assured him evenly. “You interested?”  
  
He thought about it, tried to reason with himself- it wasn’t like he’d never had sex. He did so frequently, for free. How bad could it be? And wasn’t Octavia worth it? He pictured he gaunt little face, her blue eyes hollow with hunger.  
  
“Yeah,” he said, giving Nygel a firm nod. “I’m interested.”  
  
“Great,” she said with an almost knowing smile.” She wrote something down on a piece of paper. “Go to this address. Your client will arrive within the hour, and you’ll need to spend a minimum of thirty minutes together. Any restrictions I should know about?”  
  
“Restrictions?” he asked uncertainly.  
  
“Yeah, you know- gender, age, fetishes.”  
  
Bellamy didn’t know anything about fetishes. “Um… I guess, not too old, a woman, and nothing too weird.” He hoped that covered it, figured he should keep things simple.  
  
She pondered that for a moment. “Might not be able to get you a hundred with that order,” she told him. “More like eighty.”  
  
That was still a huge amount. “Eighty’s fine,” he said. “And I want part of that in chocolate.”  
  
Nygel’s smile grew. “Of course, whatever you like.” She pushed the paper over to him. “The points will be in your account as soon as the transaction’s complete. You can pick up the chocolate after.”  
  
“And it’s safe?” he asked, fear growing in the pit of his stomach for the first time. What if he got caught? Solicitation was a capital offense.  
  
“Perfectly,” Nygel assured him. Bellamy reached for the paper, but Nygel kept her hand on it. He met her eyes, confused. She was still smiling as she said, “Last chance to change your mind.”  
  
But those eighty ration points would ensure Octavia was fed for weeks, even with the chocolate treat. Firmly, Bellamy shook his head. “I’m good. Let’s do it.”  
  
Nygel’s smile grew large, and then she let go of the paper. Bellamy looked down at the number, nodding to her before leaving the mess hall and then finding his way to the quarters it pointed to in Mecha. He tried the door, finding it unlocked. Glancing around, he stepped inside, finding himself in a room similar to his own home, but without the bunks. Instead, it had a double bed, and nothing else.  
  
He felt his palms start to sweat with nerves, but he knew he couldn’t back out now. He ran a hand through his hair, then went into the little bathroom to check how he looked. But he found himself avoiding his eyes in the mirror as he splashed his face with cold water to try and calm down, drawing in deep breaths to quiet his racing heart. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and he placed his palms firmly on the counter, staring hard into his own gaze. “For Octavia,” he said, his voice edged with what he hoped was bravery.  
  
A few moments later, he heard the door and he shoved down the chill that took over his chest as he stepped back into the main room.  
  
Standing there was a woman he’d never seen. From the state of her clothes he guessed she was from one of the middle-class stations, Farm maybe, or Hydra. She was a couple of years younger than his mother, and there was no shyness or discomfort in her eyes as she looked at him. He was a bit fascinated- what in her life had led her to this?  
  
“Nygel says you’ve never done this before,” the woman said, an amused smile curling her lips.  
  
“Yeah,” he managed, crossing the room to her when she beckoned him over.  
  
“Well, the idea of initiating you is pretty hot for me, so we should both enjoy this,” she said, looking him up and down as though appraising a piece of meat. “You’re a pretty one,” she said appreciatively.  
  
He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand. “Ground rules first,” she told him. “I don’t want to know your name. You can call me Serena, though that isn’t mine. If we see each other outside this room, we don’t recognise each other. Understand?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said with a nod, partly relieved that she was so straightforward, partly feeling even more uncomfortable.  
  
“Take off your clothes,” she said. He did, trying not to feel awkward about it, and then she pushed him down on the bed, onto his back. She straddled him, pulling off her shirt, leaving her bra on. He let his eyes close, just trying to lose himself in the feeling of her body, trying to imagine anything that would help.  
  
“Look at me,” she ordered, so he did. She picked up his hands and planted them on her chest, and he automatically massaged her breasts through the lace of her bra, feeling her nipples stiffen under his touch.  
  
She rocked against him, and thankfully he felt himself growing hard. Leaning down, she caught his lips for the first time, kissing him deeply. He allowed her tongue entrance to his mouth, allowed her to do whatever she wanted, really. He was glad she wanted to take charge, because he felt like he had no idea what he was doing. The context was so weird, not to mention everything else, so her taking the lead was a big help.  
  
She seemed to like it too, telling him what to touch, how fast, how slow, the amount of pressure. When to undress her, how. She ended up on her stomach on the bed, her ass pressed back against him begging her to take her that way. He did, finding himself able to get into it enough to stay hard, to fuck her like she wanted. He was surprised that his body didn’t just take over the way he expected it to, but he managed to at least keep up appearances, moaning her fake name until they both came.  
  
Afterward, she took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around and around him, moaning softly, humming against his sensitive skin. It didn’t take long, and she swallowed every drop he gave her, seeming to enjoy that even more than when they’d had sex. Afterward she kissed him deeply, shoving her tongue down his throat, sharing his taste. He was fully prepared to go down on her too, but it seemed like that was all she wanted.  
  
“How old are you?” she asked him when they were getting dressed again.  
  
He thought about lying, but he told the truth and said, “Eighteen.”  
  
The woman smiled, walked over and ran a hand through his hair. It was an oddly maternal gesture. “I thought you were about that,” she said, leaning in and giving him the warmest kiss she had all night. “We should do this again sometime.”  
  
“Definitely,” he said, trying to play it off like he’d had as much fun as she had. It seemed to work, and then she was leaving him alone.  
  
Bellamy sank down onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t move for about twenty minutes, just breathing, absorbing.  
  
He had done something that could not be undone. Something he’d looked down on his mother for as long as he could remember, subconsciously or not.  
  
But he had also earned eighty ration points in one hour. His sister would be eating, growing, happy, because of what he’d done.  
  
It made him feel incredibly powerful and totally helpless all at once.  
  
Finally, knowing he’d been gone long enough for the gym excuse to work, he showered and used one of the clean towels in the bathroom to dry off. He dressed again, and then he left the room, being sure no one saw him.  
  
Back in the mess hall, Nygel smiled at him and said, “Not so bad, right?”  
  
It was and it wasn’t, but he just said, “Show me.”  
  
She did, turning the screen. Eighty-seven ration points. It was unreal. She also slid the block of chocolate he’d requested across the counter to him. “It’s on the house,” she told him.  
  
Two and a half years ago, he’d thrown that same offer in her face. Now he smiled and nodded, taking the block, thanking her, and heading home.  
  
Aurora and Octavia were sitting together at the table, sewing. Bellamy walked in, head held high and chest puffed out, and he placed the block down in front of his sister. Her face lit up as she recognised what it was and she grabbed it, unwrapping it immediately. No amount of warning her to slow down made her do so, as she gobbled the whole thing up in less than two minutes.  
  
Bellamy went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but he was joined almost immediately by Aurora, who closed the door and watched him in the mirror. He tried to make his face impassive, unreadable, but she was his mother. “What did you do?” she asked him. “Where did you get that?”  
  
“What does it matter?” he asked, spitting in the sink before straightening and making eye contact with her again. “Did you see how happy she was?”  
  
“Did you steal it?” she hissed.  
  
“No, I earned it,” he countered. “From Nygel.”  
  
Aurora blinked, obviously not having expected that answer. Suddenly her face drained of colour and she grabbed his arm, spinning him around. He was much taller than her now, and she had to look up into his face as she searched his gaze, her eyes darting back and forth across his. “Tell me you didn’t,” she said finally, clearly horrified.  
  
“She’s my responsibility,” he countered, crossing his arms over his chest. _“You’re_ going to stand there and tell me I shouldn’t? _Really?”_  
  
“Bellamy!” she exclaimed, appalled. He couldn’t tell whether she wanted to slap him or cry- maybe both. But he didn’t care. After all the worry, Aurora's false promises that she would figure it out, _he_ had been the one to fix things. And it felt damn good.  
  
There was a knock at the door and then Octavia’s voice. “Bell? I need help with one of my math questions.”  
  
“Sure,” he said, not taking his eyes off Aurora’s face so she’d know the next comment was for her more than her daughter. “Anything you need, O.”  
  
Turning on his heel, he pushed the bathroom door open, went back into the main room to his sister, and left his mother alone.


	36. 36- Octavia

Octavia was a teenager now. It felt big.  
  
“I’m not a kid anymore, Mom,” she informed Aurora the day after her birthday, while the two of them sat at the table sewing together.  
  
Her mother smiled and said, “Is that so?”

 “Yeah, I’m thirteen,” Octavia informed her of what she obviously already knew. “I’m a teenager like Bellamy now, not a kid.”  
  
“Bellamy will be twenty in a few months,” Aurora reminded her, her voice sounding very much like she couldn’t believe any of it.  
  
“Yeah, and then he’ll be old,” Octavia said with a wry smile, but her mother’s words had annoyed her. Why couldn’t she be classed the same as Bellamy, for anything at all? They were _both_ teenagers, and that meant a lot to her.  
  
Later, with Aurora gone to work and Bellamy not due home from cadets just yet, Octavia had a shower and sat at the table, towelling her hair carefully, then combing it out. She still liked her bangs, mostly because when she was bored she could lean her head down low and let them brush along the table-top, or she could style them into weird patterns, braiding them together in tiny bunches or spiking them upward. They would soon flop down again, but it was funny for a minute, and in a life like hers, every minute she could entertain herself was a good one.  
  
When Bellamy came home he handed her a dozen tiny raspberries wrapped in paper, giving her a soft smile as he said, “They’re as sweet as you.”  
  
He made her squirm with pleasure, both at the present and the compliment. She ate them slowly, as if they were sacred, enjoying every burst of sugary deliciousness. She watched him take off his cadet jacket and hang it up, studied the curve of his shoulders- not too heavy today, unlike other days when he brought her something special but with far less excitement, almost flat.  
  
Bellamy was always doing this now- bringing her things. Octavia wasn’t stupid. She was worried about where he was getting the ration points, and she knew her mother absolutely hated it. Every time Bellamy gave her a gift in Aurora’s presence, their mother would turn away, her back stiff.  
  
But Octavia treasured every single one.  
  
It wasn’t always food either. Sometimes he brought her real things… a tiny ballerina figurine… a glittery light that cast patterns on the walls… a blank book with paper pages… new tights… a stuffed animal… a tiny, velvet box.  
  
Octavia looked up in surprise as he set the box down in front of her while he sat down on their mother’s bunk and started unlacing his boots. “What’s that?” she demanded excitedly.  
  
“Your birthday present,” he said with a smile.  
  
“But you gave me tights yesterday,” she reminded him. She was wearing them now, because they were her favourite thing in the world- black like always, but with a subtle pattern stitched into them that was almost unnoticeable unless you looked very closely. It felt like a secret.  
  
“Yeah, but that was just because I couldn’t pick this up until today and I didn’t want you to have nothing on the actual day,” he explained. “Go on- open it.”  
  
She did, holding her breath as she picked up the velvet box and just caressed it for a moment before opening the lid.  
  
Her breath caught. Inside was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen- a necklace, suspended on a silver chain, but the pendant was what made tears fill her eyes. She lifted it to her eye, gazing at it in wonder.  
  
Octavia had never owned a piece of jewellery, and she couldn’t even borrow her mother’s because Aurora had none either.  
  
But this was better than any necklace she could have ever imagined. The pendant was a glass ball, like a marble, but somehow it was also the Earth- a perfect image of it, captured within the glass. Now she could have the world around her neck, the one that everyone else got to see every day through the windows, but something she might never lay eyes on. Only now she could, whenever she wanted.  
  
Bellamy was still sitting on the bunk, watching her, a smile on his face as she turned towards him and he saw the tears in her eyes. “You like it?” he asked her, his voice soft.  
  
By way of an answer, Octavia ran to him and flung her arms around him, basically jumping into his lap as she wrapped him up in an embrace, a few tears curving their way down her cheeks. “Bell… I _love_ it.”  
  
He hugged her back tightly, letting out a soft chuckle. “Good, I knew you would.”  
  
He knew her so well, and this was better than any gift she ever could have imagined. She squeezed him hard and then leaned back a little, staying in his lap but just gazing at him, her eyes shining with love.  
  
“Hey, don’t cry,” he protested, seeing her tears and reaching up a hand to brush them away with the pad of his thumb.  
  
“I’m happy,” she assured him, catching his hand with hers and pressing her lips to his palm for a long moment before looking up at him from under her lashes. “Thank you.”  
  
He cleared his throat, nodding his head, his hand dropping to her thigh and giving her a pat so she’d get off him.  
  
But she didn’t move. She didn’t want to. There was something else she wanted for her birthday, and she was determined to get it. “I’m a teenager now, Bell,” she said quietly. “We both are.”  
  
“Octavia,” he said, an edge of warning in his voice. “That’s not why.”  
  
She hadn’t counted on him reading her mind. “But it’s my birthday.”  
  
“Yesterday,” he reminded her.  
  
“But you _worked_ yesterday,” she protested, still hurt that he’d missed her actual birthday, except a brief interlude between classes when he came home to give her the new tights.  
  
Guilt filled his eyes. Tears filled hers. He curled his fingers around her upper arms and rubbed her skin gently with his thumbs. “Hey… I would have been here if I could have.”  
  
“I know,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I’m not mad.”  
  
She watched him for a long moment, and then she leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his jaw, feeling it tighten underneath her lips. His hands, too, went hard around her arms as he said again, “Octavia,” that edge still in his voice.  
  
“What?” she demanded, meeting his eyes, which seemed muddled up with so many emotions that she couldn’t even read them properly. She frowned at him, her brow knitting together, and she felt a surge of stubborn anger, but then her shoulders slumped and she leaned into him, laying her cheek on his shoulder. She felt his arms relax and weave around her, giving her a squeeze.  
  
“Please, Bell,” she said, very softly. “I want to.”  
  
“You don’t know what you’re asking me for,” he answered, the tension back immediately, his voice full of it. His shoulder felt like a rock underneath her head. He tried to push her off him, but she clung on tight, making her limbs like vines around his body.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.  
  
She started crying, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and letting her tears soak his shirt. She heard his long exhale of breath in her ear, and then he was rubbing her back lightly, trying to calm her down, whispering, “Shshsh.”  
  
“No one’s ever going to love me,” she whispered, her voice shaking, the despair welling up in her chest.  
  
“Hey,” he said softly, pushing her back a little so he could look at her. _“I_ love you. _Mom_ loves you.”  
  
“That’s not what I _mean,”_ she almost growled, her expression dark.  
  
Bellamy let out a breath again, shaking his head. “I can’t do it, O.”  
  
It was so rare that he would outright refuse anything she asked for. He always tried to find a way to make things work, to get her what she wanted, or at least something close to what she wanted. She wasn’t used to outright denial.  
  
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to make him feel terrible, to guilt him into giving her what she wanted, to remind him that this wasn’t _her_ fault, that she was trapped and alone with all these big feelings and no outlet for them. She wanted to make him feel so bad for her predicament, to manipulate him into giving her a kiss, because what did it matter? Why couldn’t he just do what she wanted, make her happy this one time? He’d given her this necklace… that was what boys gave to girls they liked, right? And he was so good to her, so sweet and kind… didn’t he want her to be happy? Didn’t he _love_ her?  
  
Her lip trembled and she felt her tears spilling down again and she could see in his eyes that it hurt him, as much as any words she could say might have hurt him, because even though she hadn’t said a word, they both knew why she was crying.  
  
“Octavia,” he said softly, guiltily, stroking the hair back from her face. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I just want to be real, Bell,” she whispered, trying to blink back her tears.  
  
“You _are_ real,” he said, sounding helpless.  
  
“No I’m not. Not really.” She was like a doll, one you put on a shelf when you were done playing with it. She was a half-person, cute and loved like a child, but never allowed to grow up.  
  
“O…” She could hear the protest in his voice, the firmness growing as he reached the end of his patience.  
  
On impulse, she raised a hand and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Look at me,” she said softly, almost pleading. “Look at me, Bell.”  
  
After a moment’s hesitation he did, sweeping his eyes up and down her body. She knew he could see that she wasn’t a child anymore, and maybe she wasn’t as mature as whatever girls he was doing stuff with- because she was well aware now that he did stuff with girls- but she wasn’t asking for that. She was asking for a kiss and nothing more.  
  
“Just one,” she said, holding his eyes. “I need to know what it feels like.”  
  
“But I’m your brother,” he protested, though his voice was soft, not so firm anymore.  
  
“You’re everything,” she told him, and no truer words had ever left her lips. She reached out gingerly and touched the curve of his jaw, felt it contract and then relax again as he forced it to. But he let her trace it with his fingertips, let her lean in and press her lips to the edge of it. His body was strung so tight, he felt like glass that she could break if she wasn’t careful. “All the gods and goddesses are doing it,” she said softly, trying to make him laugh.  
  
It worked, tearing a tense chuckle from his lips as he shook his head. “Gods and goddesses aren’t real, O.”  
  
“Neither am I,” she said, and before he could protest she shook her head and added quickly, “No, I mean that in a good way this time. I mean… no one can judge us. No one will ever know I’m alive. No one will ever know a thing about me.”  
  
His eyes closed briefly and he let out a long breath, heavy with stress, as he shook his head. But he didn’t try to push her away again.  
  
“I need this,” she said, her voice breaking a little even though she didn’t intend it. “I’m going to go crazy from wondering, Bell. You can only read about something so much before you need to try it for yourself. There are a thousand things I can’t ever try… give me this _one_ thing. Please.”  
  
Again he said, “You don’t know what you’re asking me for.”  
  
Softly she told him, “I know more than you think.”  
  
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and she saw him swallow hard, saw his eyes flicker to her lips for just a second, and then she knew he would give in. She could read him like a book, and his defences were crumbling.  
  
“Close your eyes,” she whispered. “And I will too. And you can pretend I’m just a girl. Okay? Just once, for my birthday. I promise, just once and I’ll be happy.”  
  
She knew he couldn’t resist making her happy. But he still couldn’t let himself agree out loud. Instead he let his eyes flutter closed, but she didn’t, she just studied his face- his strong jaw, his cute freckles, the flicking of his pulse in his neck, rapid with nerves.  
  
His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she obliged him, pressing her belly against his, her breasts against his strong chest. He let out a long breath, clearly steeling himself. She felt a stab of guilt, but she forced it away by shutting her eyes like she promised, forcing herself not to get scared and take it back, even if she felt a nagging fear that maybe this was a mistake.  
  
Then she felt his lips, and even though she’d expected them, it was like an electric shock went through her body as he pressed them over hers, tentatively at first and then more firmly. He moved his lips against hers and she copied those movements, feeling warmth flooding her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as their lips slid together more easily. She let her hands squeeze his shoulders tightly, anchoring herself, feeling like she might float away if she didn’t.  
  
It was over almost immediately as he drew back, but she prolonged the moment by keeping her eyes shut for another few seconds, absorbing what had just happened, all the delicious and unfamiliar feelings.  
  
When she opened them again, he was looking at her with a softness in his eyes that she had no hope of reading. But she didn’t see guilt, anger, or regret. There was vulnerability, uncertainty, sadness, yes, but there was also love and tenderness, and he hugged her to his chest, tucking her head under his chin. She clung to him, feeling fragile with the enormity of the moment.  
  
Bellamy held her, letting her stay there as long as she needed to, and then- when she was ready- they stood up together, his hand curling over the back of her neck and squeezing gently, his eyes watching her closely.  
  
“You okay?” he asked her softly.  
  
She nodded, but she couldn’t find any words right now. She was okay, and she wasn’t. It had been everything she wanted, but it had carried a lot more she hadn’t expected.  
  
They sat at the table, and Bellamy took out his tablet, setting it down but not opening it yet, which was good because she definitely wasn’t in the mood for homework. She just gazed at the tabletop for a long moment, absorbing everything that had happened.  
  
She’d been kissed. Like a normal girl, she had kissed the boy she had a crush on, he had kissed her back, and it had been… incredible. A bit of a rocky start, yes, and it had been chaste and brief, but she’d been _kissed._  
  
She _was_ a real girl. Normal.  
  
A slow smile spread over her face, and suddenly she wanted to grin, to laugh, a belated happiness bubbling up in her chest. She looked at Bellamy, his face a bit blurry through the tears that gathered in her eyes, but they were happy, not sad. “I love you, Bell.”  
  
He let out a breath of what must have been relief and nodded, reaching out for her hand, lacing their fingers together for a moment while he squeezed. He was still looking at her in a way that was a bit unreadable, like he’d never seen her before, or didn’t quite know what to do. But there was still as much love in his eyes as ever, and she felt her heart fluttering under his gaze.  
  
She had been kissed by someone she loved, and someone who loved her back. Lots of storybook heroines never even got that. So she knew she was lucky.  
  
She watched his eyes drop to the table, watched his eyebrows knit together. Octavia knew Bellamy had a bad habit of stewing on something until he made it worse than it had to be. It was perhaps his biggest talent, but she didn’t want that to happen here. Reaching for the necklace, she pressed it into his hand and then turned her back to him, lifting her hair away from the back of her neck. Gently she asked him, “Put it on for me, Bell?”  
  
“Sure thing,” he said softly, unclasping the chain and carefully fitting it around her throat, letting the pendant settle on her chest.  
  
Looking down at her own little Earth, she smiled as she turned it this way and that, before swivelling around in her chair and putting her arms around him, hugging him tight. “I love it, Bell,” she said. “This was the best birthday _ever.”_  
  
He searched her eyes for a long moment, and then she saw his body start to relax for the first time since they’d kissed. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her, genuine and mostly free of tension. “Good,” he said, his voice soft with love. “Happy birthday, O.”


	37. 37- Bellamy

“We have a new cadet joining us today,” Shumway announced at morning briefing. Bellamy and his classmates exchanged glances, surprised to hear this- it was unusual for a new recruit to start up so late into the program.  
  
What was even more surprising was that the boy that was waved into the classroom didn’t look a day over fifteen. He had a bit of a baby face, so maybe he was sixteen, but still. Standing at the front of the class, a grin on his face, his blue eyes sparkling, his head crowned in thick, dark blond hair, he looked like a child.  
  
The new cadet’s name was Vaughn Bishop. Shumway explained that because his father was a top guard and had trained him from a young age, he’d been allowed to skip some of the pre-requisites and was joining their class as an advanced placement recruit.  
  
He was from Alpha, of course.  
  
They were paired together in the gym, and man the guy liked to talk. Bellamy was preoccupied thinking about his plan for that evening- his rations were running low again, but Nygel had a new client for him, one who would pay more than usual. So, somehow he had to fit that in around Octavia, knowing his mother was leaving early for work and not wanting his sister to be alone for too long.  
  
Then again, ever since she’d begged him for that kiss, the day after her birthday, he’d been wary of being alone with her too long, and tried to minimise the time they spent in the same bunk too. Not that she’d tried anything else, or asked for anything. She’d promised him that one kiss was all she wanted, and so far she’d been true to her word. He hoped that was the end of it.  
  
It wasn’t that it had been _bad-_ that wasn’t the point at all. It had even been kind of nice, sweet and innocent in a way he hadn’t experienced since… well, probably since he was Octavia’s age. Plus, he hadn’t kissed someone he loved since Everly, which felt like a lifetime ago. And his love for Everly had been a tiny speck of feeling compared to the wealth he had for his sister. There simply weren’t words for the complexity with which he loved her, or the depth of it, and that was how this had happened- she’d told him it would make her happy, and he couldn’t say no. But he knew that had to change, and fast.  
  
The bottom line was this: she was his sister, and they weren’t supposed to do stuff like that. No one on the Ark had siblings except them, and Octavia had tried to argue that that meant _they_ could be the only ones to define that relationship, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Plus, she was so young. He’d tried to tell her she didn’t know what she was asking for, not really, and he’d meant it. She was young not just in age but in experience, and he supposed she always would be.  
  
So, no amount of rationalising- that no one else had a sibling, that no one could possibly understand, that maybe she _did_ need him for everything, even that, or that it wasn’t either of their faults that she had to live in that tiny room with no other human contact except her family, that no one would ever know she existed or ever know about anything they did… none of that excused it. _He_ would know. No, there was no level of justification that could actually excuse the fact that it was simply wrong, and he knew it was wrong. Hell, _she_ probably even knew it was wrong, on some level. But she cared a lot less than he did, owing to the fact that she didn’t have anyone to answer to but him and Aurora.  
  
And as for Aurora- what would _she_ think of all this? Part of him wished he could talk to her about it, but he knew he couldn’t. She’d freak out, hit the roof, sit them both down and ground them for a year… wouldn’t she? Part of him wondered. After all, it was _her_ idea that the two of them should live together- no one else allowed- for the rest of their lives. Did she just expect them to play pony ride and board games until they died of old age? She couldn’t be _that_ naïve… could she?  
  
Bellamy felt the familiar pang of an old hurt, a deep anger at his mother for this situation that she’d created and thrust them both into, with no choice but to make do. Only that anger came with a simultaneous stab of guilt for the implication that he might wish Octavia had never been. And _that_ could certainly never be true. So the thought process was always a lost cause.  
  
“Hey, Earth to Blake,” Vaughn called out to him, pulling him from his thoughts and back into the sparring area with a quizzical look.  
  
“What?” Bellamy asked, irritated at the interruption.  
  
“Why’d you say yes?”  
  
“Huh?” He hadn’t been aware that he was saying anything at all. “Oh sorry, I didn’t understand the question.”  
  
“I asked you if you were my bitch now,” Vaughn said, hiding a laugh. “I was trash-talking you, man.”  
  
Bellamy would have turned red if he hadn’t been so preoccupied worrying about important things. “Oh, sorry.” He assumed a fighting stance again, realising that the whole time his mind had been whirring with possibilities, he and Vaughn had been practicing hand-to-hand combat. Well, at least he was good at multi-tasking… maybe better than he knew.  
  
They sparred a bit more, trading blows. The kid wasn’t bad, he had to admit… maybe he belonged here after all, even if he only got in because he was privileged.  
  
“So what made you want to be a guard?” Bellamy asked, trying to focus on the here and now.  
  
“My dad,” he answered, flicking his eyes to the ceiling. “Not my first choice.”  
  
“Yeah? It’s mine,” Bellamy told him, throwing a punch.  
  
“Well, at least you had a choice,” Vaughn pointed out, blocking and then throwing a punch of his own.  
  
“Actually, my mom pushed me pretty hard,” Bellamy said, not wanting the kid to think he’d had it in any way worse than him. As if that was even possible, with his life.  
  
“Yeah?” They rotated, still trying to land blows on each other. “How come?”  
  
This is what always happened when he talked about anything besides pointless day-to-day small talk… it always circled around to Octavia, one way or another, and he always hated the feeling of avoiding the most important topic of his life. With a shrug he said, “I don’t know, I guess she thought it was a good job.”  
  
“I heard you’re the only kid from Factory to ever get into the program,” Vaughn said, sounding almost impressed, which caught Bellamy off-guard.  
  
He shrugged a little, recovering himself. “I guess so.”  
  
In the locker room, Vaughn sat down next to Bellamy and said, “Hey, are you busy after? I have a shitload of readings to catch up on and I was hoping you might help me. You’re the only one who’s been even remotely nice to me.”  
  
Nice? Him? He was surprised to hear that, but the truth was, he didn’t have time. “No, sorry, I have a meeting and then I have to get home.”  
  
“A meeting?” Vaughn asked with a groan. “Don’t tell me they left that off my timetable.”  
  
“What?” He shook his head. “Oh, no, it’s nothing to do with cadets.”  
  
“Thank God,” Vaughn said happily. “So okay then, rain-check? I’ve got to spend some time with my girlfriend and the twins anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Bellamy playfully.  
  
What language was this guy speaking? “Huh?” Bellamy asked, totally confused. What was he talking about? No one on the Ark had _twins._  
  
“My girlfriend,” Vaughn repeated. “The one I was telling you about when we were fighting. Petite? Blonde? Best breasts on the Ark? Get it… the twins? I was kidding.” He gave Bellamy a long, scrutinising look and then said, like he was diagnosing a deadly disease, “I think you’re too serious for your own good, man.”  
  
“And you have way too much energy,” Bellamy retorted, but in spite of himself he smiled and gave the guy a shove. He had an almost unbelievably easy-going nature… it wasn’t hard to like him. And as much as Bellamy might have ignored him today, he’d apparently been happily talking the whole time, and had barely noticed that Bellamy was completely checked out. Maybe he’d be a good friend to have. Aurora was always bugging him about that, how he couldn’t just get by being the best cadet academically, but he also had to seem friendly and outgoing- someone people would trust.  
  
So he sized the younger guy up for a long moment and then said, “Actually, let’s hang out. Not tonight, I can’t. But how about tomorrow?”  
  
“Yeah?” Vaughn asked, brightening. “Cool. You can come to my quarters after training tomorrow.”  
  
“Great,” Bellamy said, relieved that he hadn’t suggested they go to his place. He stood, grabbing his stuff, tossing over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”  
  
He went straight for one of the quarters Nygel set aside for the meetings she arranged, and it wasn’t long before his client arrived. He’d never been with the same woman twice, but that was fine with him- it didn’t matter.  
  
Bellamy didn’t enjoy these encounters, though his body functioned normally and he was attentive, never turning a client away unhappy. Even when they had unusual desires, he did his best to accommodate them, so he’d done a few things he never would have dreamed of before. He found that with the right stimulation, almost anything could be hot.  
  
A small part of him, fearful and hesitant, wondered whether that was why he’d given in to Octavia’s demand that he kiss her. If he wasn’t doing this work, would he have been more shockable? Would he have been able to resist? Tell her no, that she was just upset and he was sorry, but they couldn’t ever do something like that? She was his responsibility, and wasn’t that part of it- protecting her? Even from himself, or things she thought she wanted but had no real understanding of? And if he didn’t, was he any better than _those_ men? Wasn’t he like one of them, working for Nygel, even if it was to put food in his sister’s belly?  
  
But that thought was always silenced the second it arose, quashed and shoved away. There was _nothing_ about what he did in this room that could possibly relate to the girl waiting for him at home. Even the idea of it made him sick.  
  
Tonight, though, he found himself challenged by what the woman was asking him to do. Calmly she told him, “I want you to tie me up and rape me.”  
  
“What?” he managed, staring at her. “Why?”  
  
_“Why?”_ she repeated, clearly taken aback. “Am I paying you to ask _why?”_  
  
“Sorry,” he said, trying to recover himself. But he really didn’t like it as she shoved the soft rope into his hands.  
  
“So here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, shaking away her annoyance, clearly trying to stay in the mood. “I’m going to be in bed sleeping, and you’re going to come in from the bathroom- pretend you broke in- and then go from there. Don’t stop, even if I tell you to, okay?”  
  
He stared at her for a long moment- he couldn’t help but wonder: had somebody hurt her? But he knew he couldn’t ask, so he just steeled himself and nodded his head, forcing a smile as he said, “Whatever you want.”  
  
Bellamy went into the bathroom, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to do this. He’d have to get into the mind-set of someone like that, but could he? Or more specifically, did he want to find out that he could?  
  
But he knew the answer: he had to.  
  
Waiting until he couldn’t hear any movement anymore in the next room, he ventured out of the bathroom quietly, his eyes making out her shape in the darkness. She was naked but for the sheet. Bellamy hadn’t thought that far, and he hurriedly pulled off his shirt, leaving his pants on because he figured a rapist wouldn’t arrive on a scene stark naked.  
  
Pulling in a deep breath, he just went for it, because he had no choice. He jumped on the bed, straddling her, grabbing the hands that tried to fight him off and pinning them above her head. He pulled the rope from his back pocket as she struggled against him and cried, but he ignored her, tying her wrists to the headboard tightly. He ripped at her bra, yanked her underwear down her writhing legs, shoving her thighs apart with a rough hand.  
  
Even after all that, he was shocked to find he still managed to get hard, and he slid into her easily, even as she twisted her head from side to side, struggling at the ropes, whimpering ‘no’ and ‘stop.’ He felt like a monster, disgusting and evil.  
  
He clamped a hand over her mouth and ground out, “Shut up,” feeling her get wetter even as tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes and curled down her cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing the headboard with his other hand, thrusting as hard as he could, to finish this quickly.  
  
She came three times before he was finally able to, releasing inside her and then collapsing on top, breathing hard. But he knew he had to complete the show, so he grabbed her neck in his hand and squeezed until her eyes widened in fear, making his face and voice savage as he bit out, “You tell _anyone_ about this, I’ll kill you.” He heard a tiny, shaky whimper escape her lips.  
  
Bellamy loosened the ropes, and then he went back into the bathroom, leaving the light off, sitting down hard on the closed toilet. He listened as she got up, dressed, and went out the front door, shutting it quietly behind her.  
  
Only then did he drop his head into his hands, curl around himself, and cry.


	38. 38- Octavia

Bellamy had called in sick to class, but it was her fault- he wasn’t sick at all, she was. Her fever had started after midnight, raging all night and on into the morning. Aurora had finally had her hours increased at the factory again, still not back to normal but getting closer, so she couldn’t afford to take any time off.  
  
“Leave me,” Octavia had tried to argue, even as her body trembled and her skin became ashen and clammy. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
“No _way,”_ Bellamy had insisted.  
  
“Sweetheart, you’re very sick,” Aurora had said, pressing a cool cloth to her forehead that almost immediately warmed. But she still seemed worried at the prospect of Bellamy missing cadets.  
  
“It’s fine, Mom,” Bellamy assured her. “Go to work. I’m a model student, one day off sick isn’t going to matter.”  
  
The decision had been made, and Aurora had left. Bellamy brought her cool water to drink and he dabbed more across her face and on the soles of her feet.  
  
“You know what a fever is, O?”  
  
“A fight,” she answered, teeth chattering.  
  
“That’s right, and you know who’s going to win? You are, because you’re strong.” She could see the worry in his dark eyes, hear an edge of fear in his voice. But Octavia wasn’t scared, just tired.  
  
She slept fitfully, in and out, while Bellamy stayed close to her. He might have been telling her stories, but she didn’t know. Her dreams were strange, long, creeping and sluggish.  
  
The only reason she woke fully was because her every sense was tuned to this, had been since birth- a pounding on the door, an unexpected visitor.  
  
Beside her, sitting up in a chair, her brother froze. Stared at the door for a long moment. Tried to comprehend.  
  
Then he was up and moving quickly, pressing a hand against the door as though he could will whoever was on the other side to go away.  
  
The pounding came again.  
  
Bellamy moved quickly, running to the table and moving it aside as quietly as he could. “Just a minute!”  
  
Again the knocking, more urgent now. Whoever wanted that door opened was not going to go away.  
  
Scooping her up in his arms, Bellamy hurried Octavia to the hole and gently laid her on the blanket inside. She felt as lethargic as her dreams, as though nothing was quite real, but the cold floor was oddly comforting, doing more for her burning skin than any sponge bath.  
  
The knocking was still going, and now there was a voice calling her brother’s name.  
  
“O,” he whispered, cradling her face in his hands, turning her eyes up to his. “You have to be quiet, okay?”  
  
Octavia knew that he was worried she was out of it, that she wouldn’t realise what was going on, but even in her fevered state she was well aware of the importance of silence. After she’d given him a sincere nod, he closed the sky on her.  
  
She heard the table slide back into place. Heard him cross quickly to the door, heard it open. She held her breath.  
  
Bellamy’s voice was surprised as he said, “What are you doing here?” The visitor, whoever it was, strode into the room uninvited. Bellamy closed the door behind him and said, “Vaughn- what are you _doing_ here?”  
  
Octavia turned her face and peered up through the small handhold. She was curious because she knew that name- he was Bellamy’s classmate from cadets, one he actually hung out with when he didn’t have to… the first person she could really remember Bellamy ever calling a friend. Bellamy had told her a lot about Vaughn, that he was nice and funny, that he talked a lot, that he was kind.  
  
Looking up through the hole, she could see a boy who was fair-haired and fair-skinned, wearing the same uniform that Bellamy wore every day when he left for cadets. This was the only perspective from which she saw people who were not Bellamy or Aurora. She always wondered how tall they might be.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Bellamy asked him again, an edge creeping into his voice.  
  
Vaughn was holding something in his hands, small and metal. He held it out. “Here, I brought this for you.”  
  
“What?” Bellamy took it, and Octavia could hear the obvious surprise in his voice. She heard him opening the canister, but she couldn’t quite see him, only Vaughn. A delicious smell reached her nose and she inhaled, feeling her mouth water a little. “What is it?” Bellamy asked.  
  
“Chicken soup,” Vaughn said, obviously surprised. “Haven’t you ever had it?”  
  
“Of _course_ I have,” Bellamy said impatiently, and Octavia heard him screwing the lid back in place. She saw Bellamy’s hand outstretched, holding the canister, but his friend didn’t make a move to take it. “Why did you bring me this?” he clarified.  
  
“There’s a pop quiz in an hour,” Vaughn answered. “It’s worth twenty per cent of our grade. I’m not supposed to know about it, but I do… I came here as quick as I could, but I have to get back soon.” He handed over another thing. “That’s medicine… my girlfriend got it for me, so don’t worry.”  
  
“And the soup?” Bellamy asked, still not getting that part of it, though Octavia could hear the underlay of gratitude for the medicine.  
  
A hint of sheepishness crept into Vaughn’s voice as he said, “It always makes me feel better.”  
  
Octavia’s mind clicked with realisation. Bellamy had called in sick. Vaughn was trying to help him get better in time for this important test. He was a good friend! She couldn’t help but smile despite how bad she felt, liking that Bellamy had a real friend.  
  
“Oh.” Realisation seemed to hit her brother at the same time as her. “Right. Hey… thanks man, that’s really good of you.”  
  
“So hurry up and drink it so we can get back to class,” Vaughn said with a grin. Even from her angle, Octavia could see how handsome his smile was, and she couldn’t help a tiny flush of pink that rose into her cheeks.  
  
She lost herself in a daydream for a moment, imagining that she was up there too with the two of them, that there was no one-child policy. Bellamy would introduce her as his little sister, and Vaughn would smile at her, pleased to meet someone who was so important to his friend. They would shake hands- or wait, no, maybe he would hug her. His arms would be strong, and he’d smell good. Somehow she’d be able to tell that he thought she was cute, that he wished Bellamy wasn’t there so he could tell her that. Kiss her maybe.  
  
Bellamy was talking to Vaughn again, pulling her out of her daydream. “Look man, I really appreciate it, but I can’t. I have to stay in bed.”  
  
“Come on,” Vaughn urged him. “You don’t even look that sick… I’m sure the soup will get you through, and if you miss this quiz-”  
  
“I’ll make it up,” Bellamy interrupted him, his voice firm. Octavia wished she could speak up, wished she could tell him she’d be okay for a couple of hours, that he could go and she’d survive, but she knew she couldn’t make a single sound.  
  
Letting out a breath, Vaughn shook his head but relented. “Okay… well, the quiz will be in second period, right after lunch. You’ve still got an hour. I hope you change your mind.”  
  
“See you tomorrow,” Bellamy said, firmly. He went to do the door and opened it, and Octavia took one last look at Vaughn before he walked out, hearing the door shut behind him.  
  
As soon as Bellamy opened the floor panel she sat up and pulled herself out. “You should have gone, Bell, it sounds important,” she said, wobbling on her feet just a little as she moved too fast and felt a rush of vertigo.  
  
Bellamy put an arm around her and helped her back to their mother’s bunk, where she insisted, “He was really nice to come here and warn you.”  
  
“I can’t leave you alone,” he said, shaking his head. He grabbed a glass of water and gave her the pills Vaughn had brought, watching her drink them down.  
  
“I’m thirteen, not three,” she reminded him, making a face.  
  
He hesitated, and that’s when she knew that he was actually worried about the quiz, that he’d brushed it off to Vaughn but it was definitely important. “Bell, go,” she urged him.  
  
Again, he hesitated, and then he let out a breath, raising a hand and pressing his palm against her forehead. He opened the canister, handing it to her. “Drink this.”  
  
She did, and it was delicious- better than any soup she’d ever had. She knew Vaughn was from Alpha, so she imagined it was some kind of expensive gourmet chicken soup. Or at least, it tasted that way to her. She smiled a little to herself as she enjoyed it, imagining that Vaughn had brought it for _her,_ that he was her secret boyfriend.  
  
Once she’d drunk her fill of the soup, she lay down in the bed again and once more Bellamy pressed his hand to her forehead, testing.  
  
“I feel a little better,” she assured him. “I swear, I’m not just saying that.” It was true- the medicine, the cold floor in the hole, and the soup had helped, and she felt a lot better now than she had last night, or even this morning. Squeezing his hand she said, “I’m going to be okay, Bell.”  
  
They both knew it was true. Her sicknesses raged worse than anyone in her family, but if she was going to die from it, she would have as a child, not now.  
  
Finally, he relented- but _only,_ he assured her, because of the quiz, and he would be home as quick as he could.  
  
“It’s okay, Bell,” she promised him. “Really.”  
  
He grabbed his uniform, hastily pulling it on, and then he was out the door. Octavia curled into the wall and, almost immediately, drifted off to sleep.  
  
When she awoke, she felt a lot better, very nearly back to normal- just tired, but her fever had broken. She couldn’t help but think of Vaughn, and she couldn’t quite remember, but she was fairly sure she’d just been dreaming about him.  
  
She took the opportunity to think about him again, what little she’d seen of him. All the men her mother brought home, or the ones who came for inspections, they were usually old. Vaughn didn’t look much older than she was. A real boy, close to her own age, who was friends with her brother? _That_ was something out of a book. In the story, he would want to date her. He would worry about what Bellamy would think, but he’d want it anyway, and she’d want to date him too, and they would. It would be perfect.  
  
Octavia felt a fluttering in her chest and stomach as she thought about it. His smile had looked nice, even from her upward angle. He’d looked kind, cute, and he was generous, bringing that soup, and the medicine- she ignored the fact that he'd said his girlfriend had gotten the medicine. She wondered what his arms would feel like around her. She wondered whether his lips were soft or rough.  
  
She imagined what it would feel like to be touched. His hands trailing over her body, his lips pressing against hers. She knew sometimes people touched tongues, though that seemed weird. Octavia slid her hands over her own modest breasts as she thought about Vaughn doing the same. What would that feel like? Would it be better than her own hands?  
  
She felt a familiar knot of pressure growing in her lower belly, like when she let the shower run between her legs- good but never quite enough, even though she had no idea what enough would feel like either. She let her eyes close, trailing a hand down her stomach and pressing it between her legs, squeezing them shut against that delicious pressure for a long moment.  
  
Octavia imagined it was Vaughn’s hand instead of hers, and then she imagined that he was lying on top of her, his lips on her lips, his warm body pressed against hers. She imagined he liked her breasts.  
  
Relaxing her legs, she slid a hand beneath her clothes, exploring herself tentatively, imagining that it wasn’t her hand at all. She felt a wetness between her legs that she knew came from within her, like a mystery. Her breaths came quicker as she whispered softly, “Vaughn…” Her body trembled in a good way.  
  
After a while it felt like too much, and she stopped, rolling onto her side and letting her eyes open again, smiling softly into the empty room. Her body felt tingly, alive, and sleepy all at the same time.  
  
She felt like she was on the verge of figuring something out- something big.


	39. 39- Bellamy

Vaughn and Bellamy met in Mecha, as was their habit before training, and made their way to the elevators that would take them to their first class of the day. Today they were supposed to be practicing with shock batons, and Vaughn kept threatening to actually shock Bellamy ‘accidentally,’ if they were paired together.  
  
“I’m pretty sure they’re going to give us deactivated ones, seeing as we’ve never touched them before,” Bellamy said dryly.  
  
“You’re so not fun,” Vaughn protested.  
  
“Besides, we won’t get paired- we spent all day yesterday working on patrol together.” In spite of himself, Bellamy found himself wishing they _would_ be paired together. He was enjoying having a friend, something he’d barely had since Octavia was born.  
  
“Well that sucks,” Vaughn said as they stepped into the elevator, making a face. “I don’t want to shock anyone but you.”  
  
“How romantic,” Bellamy joked, rolling his eyes. He pressed the button for their floor, but grabbed the door just before it closed, seeing a woman running towards them. She smiled her thanks as she stepped in beside them. Bellamy couldn’t help but notice the way he hand rested protectively on her huge stomach, and a small smile curled the corners of his lips as he watched the light, probably subconscious, movement of her fingertips against the swell of her belly.  
  
“… until crazy late. How bad does that suck?” Vaughn’s voice suddenly cut through to him. The guy talked so much, and Bellamy was so used to getting lost in his own thoughts, that he often missed huge bits of what Vaughn was saying.  
  
“What?” he asked, as he usually did about a dozen times a day with Vaughn, who seemed not to mind.  
  
“I said she’s going to be in Sickbay until like three hours after our class ends today,” he said. “So we won’t get to hang out until then. She has some big evaluation. Well, all the medical apprentices do, I guess.”  
  
Bellamy wasn’t immediately sure who he was talking about, but then he vaguely remembered that Vaughn’s girlfriend was a medical apprentice, so that must have been it. “Oh yeah, that does suck,” he agreed.  
  
Vaughn nodded and continued to talk about his girlfriend, but Bellamy’s thoughts were already back on memories of Octavia, the way she used to cause ripples and big rolling swells across their mother’s stomach, how his little hand would lay overtop of Aurora’s taut skin, his eyes huge with fascination.  
  
There was a sudden lurching feeling and Bellamy reached out for the side of the elevator, frowning in confusion as it stopped. Vaughn and the woman were also surprised, grabbing at the handrails to steady themselves as they all looked around in confusion.  
  
For a moment nothing happened, and then they were plunged into several seconds of darkness, before the emergency lights kicked in.  
  
“Power failure?” Vaughn guessed, trying a few buttons and finding them all unresponsive.  
  
“I guess,” Bellamy said with a shrug. “That or a lockdown.” He knew that sometimes the guard called for a shutdown of anything that could be used as an escape, in the case of a capital crime being committed and the guilty party trying to escape capture.  
  
“How long until they bring it back online?” the girl asked uncertainly, looking at them. Bellamy realised that, with their cadet uniforms, she was looking to them to have the answers.  
  
“Not long,” he assured her. “Probably an hour at most.”  
  
“Well… we’re so not going to be on time for class,” Vaughn said dryly, with a sly smile that said he didn’t really mind.  
  
Easing himself down onto the floor, Bellamy brought his feet up and folded his arms overtop, laying his head on them and closing his eyes. The woman seemed to think this was a good idea, and did the same thing, easing herself down onto the floor carefully, one hand on her stomach.  
  
“No fun,” Vaughn complained, sinking down next to Bellamy. “You’re really going to sleep?”  
  
“Yeah, I barely slept last night,” Bellamy answered, not opening his eyes. Octavia had crawled in with him after midnight and proceeded to toss and turn all night, so this was a welcome opportunity for a nap.  
  
“Oh,” Vaughn said, and Bellamy didn’t even have to look to see the knowing smile on his face. “Gotcha.”  
  
He couldn’t help but be amused. _Yeah, Vaughn, a girl kept me up… but_ so _not in the way you’re thinking._  
  
It wasn’t long before he fell asleep. He figured they’d fix it or lift the lockdown in no time, so it was a good opportunity for a power nap.  
  
So he was surprised when he woke up and felt like he’d been sleeping for hours. Vaughn was shaking his shoulder. “Bellamy!”  
  
“What?” he asked, his head raising quickly as he heard the urgency in his friend’s voice. Then he heard a low moaning that ended in a wail, and he was quickly on his feet, looking to the woman who’d been standing near him earlier.  
  
She was sitting on the floor, her hand gripping the rail just above her, beads of sweat on her forehead, her face half tucked into her elbow as her chest heaved with every breath.  
  
“She’s in serious pain and I can’t get through to anyone on the damn emergency console,” Vaughn informed him, giving the dead panel a smack out of frustration.  
  
Instantly Bellamy was on his feet, checking the panel, but Vaughn was right- there was no use. He looked at the woman again, seeing the furrows of her brow slowly smooth out as she seemed to relax and then fall asleep. Less than thirty seconds later, her whole body went tense again and her face twisted, her breaths coming in pants as she let out another wail, which turned into a low moan, and then a grunt.  
  
“Shit… she’s going to have that baby,” Bellamy hissed to Vaughn, pointing at her. He grabbed the elevator doors and tried to pry them open, Vaughn jumping in to help as well. But it was no use, and there was no telling where they were, whether they were even in a place where there’d be anything on the other side.  
  
“Hey, somebody help us!” Vaughn screamed at the top of his lungs, banging on the door. “Come on!”  
  
Bellamy’s eyes were on the woman, and as he watched her have another pain and make that same sound again, he was more certain that there was about to be one more person in this elevator.  
  
“Hey,” he said gently, crouching in front of her. He waited for the pain to pass, watched her eyes try to focus on him, and then asked, “Your baby- is it coming?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she said, her eyes filling with panic as her breath started coming quicker and a few tears rolled down her cheeks.  
  
“Hey, shshsh,” he soothed. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”  
  
“Nandi,” she said.  
  
“Okay,” he answered, giving her a small smile. Vaughn was next to him now, crouched down and looking at the girl like she was radioactive. “This is Vaughn, and I’m Bellamy. You’re going to be alright.”  
  
“How do you know?” she demanded, the end of the question becoming a wail as the pain returned and she grunted again, low in her throat.  
  
Once that pain had passed Bellamy said softly, “Nandi, I think this baby’s going to come soon. And I don’t think they’re going to open the doors before that happens.” Her face twisted in fear and she let out a soft cry, shaking her head. He reached out, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze as he said, “Don’t worry.” He pulled her gaze back to his own again and said, “I’ve done this before. You’ll be fine, I promise. Just work with us here, okay?”  
  
Turning his attention to Vaughn he said, “Take off your shirt.”  
  
“What?” Vaughn asked in surprise. His eyes trailed to the door as he added uncertainly, “Maybe they’ll get it open soon…”  
  
“And maybe they won’t,” Bellamy interjected. “Take off your shirt.” He unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it, pulling off his own shirt, then put his jacket back on. Vaughn did the same, and then Bellamy grabbed both their shirts and folded them up. “Stick these inside the control box, so they’ll stay warm.”  
  
Vaughn did as he said and quickly returned to his side. “Now what?”  
  
Nandi’s sounds were getting more and more guttural, and longer, and Bellamy knew it wouldn’t be long now. “We have to take these off,” he told her, touching her knee gently.  
  
She pulled in a breath, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them uncertainly for a moment. Only when Bellamy nodded his encouragement did she allow them to help her off with everything she was wearing below the waist. Bellamy made sure to drape the fabric over her so she’d still be covered.  
  
“Okay, listen to me,” he said gently, after the next pain finished. “We’re right here with you, okay? I know it’s not ideal but it’s okay, and you’re going to be fine. Just breathe and go with it.”  
  
“Go with it?” she repeated, her voice scared. “But I can’t… I can’t do this.”  
  
“Yes you can,” he insisted, catching her eyes, nodding his head. “You can.”  
  
“Yeah,” Vaughn chimed in. “We’re on the case. Don’t worry, this kind of stuff happens all the time in the guard.”  
  
Nandi was clearly doubtful, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t long before her body took over, and every pain was accompanied by the low, guttural sounds that Bellamy knew meant she was pushing.  
  
Delicately he leaned his head down and had a look, and sure enough when the next pain came, he could see the head. She reached out suddenly and grabbed him, her eyes huge with terror.  
  
“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe… in and out… slowly… that’s the way,” he spoke gently to her, squeezing her hand tightly, holding her gaze as she did as he said. Her other hand clutched at Vaughn’s as she breathed.  
  
“Something’s there!” she yelled suddenly.  
  
Bellamy had another look before he said quickly, “That’s okay, that’s the head… you’re almost done now.” He could see the baby making faces, trying to breathe before it was even out. “One last push now,” he told her. “What are you having?”  
  
“A girl,” she answered, her breath coming in pants of fear. The pain came again and she kept breathing as Bellamy let go of her hand.  
  
“Okay,” he said. “Here we go. You’re going to meet your daughter now.” He reached down to catch the emerging baby as she gave the last push, and suddenly he had a wet, squirming, crying baby in his hands.  
  
“Grab the shirts,” he said to Vaughn, who quickly obeyed him, handing the over. Bellamy wrapped the baby carefully and then brought her up, settling her into Nandi’s arms. He couldn’t help but see Octavia in that baby, and feel a pang for that day she was born, so long ago now… it was unreal, how fast things had gone from this moment to her teen years.  
  
“Oh my God,” Nandi whispered, gazing at the baby, who opened her eyes and gazed up into her mother’s face. “Look at her.”  
  
“She’s beautiful,” Bellamy agreed with a soft smile.  
  
“What about the cord?” Vaughn hissed. “Don’t we have to cut it or something? I don’t have anything to cut it with… do you?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Bellamy said, shaking his head, still smiling at the tiny baby. “There’s no rush- we can wait until we’re rescued.”  
  
The little girl let out a wail, her cute face scrunching up. Bellamy felt a surge of anxiety, wanting to quiet her, but he forced himself to remain calm, reminding himself that she could make all the noise she wanted, like any normal baby.  
  
“Are you warm enough?” he asked Nandi gently.  
  
“I’m okay,” she assured him, giving him a tired but happy smile. “Thank you… both of you.”  
  
Bellamy shrugged a little, smiling, sitting back against the wall. He glanced between her legs, but the amount of blood under her didn’t seem like much compared to what he remembered. Everything seemed to calm right now as they all just enjoyed the cute little sounds of the baby fussing, then settling down again, looking around the little room.  
  
“Don’t worry, my darling,” the mother murmured softly to her child. “The world is much bigger than this.”  
  
At those words Bellamy felt a pang, but he pushed it away. Belatedly, he noticed that Vaughn was staring at him. “What?”  
  
“How the hell did you know how to do all that?” he asked, his voice a whisper so as not to disturb Nandi and the baby.  
  
“I don’t know,” Bellamy answered, suddenly apprehensive. “Just instinct.”  
  
“You told her you’ve done it before,” Vaughn pointed out.  
  
“What?” Had he? “Oh… I don’t know, you’ll say anything to calm someone down who’s panicking, right? _You_ told her we do this all the time in the guard.”  
  
“Yeah, but _I_ was kidding,” Vaughn said. “You sounded serious.”  
  
“Maybe I’m a better liar than you,” Bellamy answered with a slight tease in his voice, trying to distract him with a joke.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Vaughn gave him a little shove. “Yeah well, you saved the day.”  
  
“We did it together,” he answered, suddenly worried that Vaughn would tell everyone how Bellamy was an expert in childbirth. And what if that led to questions? “Okay?” he insisted. “You were just as helpful. We did it together, equally.”  
  
There was a moment of silence while Vaughn scrutinised him, but then he shrugged. “Alright then.” With a grin he added, “I’m not going to argue with taking credit.”  
  
Bellamy breathed an internal sigh of relief, but outwardly he just rolled his eyes and laughed, shaking his head.  
  
The next hour was a busy one, with Nandi delivering her placenta and prompting Vaughn to turn the greenest colour that Bellamy had ever seen on anyone’s face. They wrapped the afterbirth in Bellamy’s shirt, which he promised Nandi he didn’t need back, and then the baby had a long feed.  
  
Afterward, both mother and daughter slept, until finally there was the sound of activity outside the doors, and they were slowly pried open. A medical transport was called for, and Bellamy was careful to ensure that both he and Vaughn received equal praise and credit- a bit more went to Vaughn, really, because of his outgoing nature and how he animatedly told the story to their rescuers.  
  
“We’re, like, total heroes,” he said as they headed back toward Mecha. But suddenly Vaughn said, “Want to hang out? I’ll come over.”  
  
“No,” Bellamy said, too quickly. He let out a tense laugh. “Sorry, I mean I think we both need a shower, don’t you? We stink.”  
  
“They _do_ have showers on Factory, right?” Vaughn asked teasingly.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Bellamy gave him a shove and said, “Rain check?”  
  
He was relieved that Vaughn had such an easy-going nature; it was like he was the perfect friend. Now he just shrugged and said, “Okay, sure. See you at school tomorrow… though I owe you a shock.”  
  
“Hilarious,” Bellamy said dryly, giving him a smile and a slap on the shoulder before he turned and headed back to Factory. There was no point attending the last forty-five minutes of class when their instructors had already been informed of what had happened.  
  
Pushing open the doors to his quarters, he saw Octavia at the table sewing. She tensed immediately when he entered unexpectedly, but as soon as she saw it was him her face lit up with a grin. “You’re home early.”  
  
Giving her a soft smile, he pulled off his jacket, hanging it up like he always did when he first got home.  
  
Octavia was frowning quizzically at him when he turned towards her and then she asked, “Bell… where’s your shirt?”  
  
He laughed, shaking his head, sitting down beside her and laying a hand on her wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just wait till I tell you the story.”


	40. 40- Octavia

Octavia couldn’t sleep because Bellamy wasn’t home. He should have been, hours ago, but when she’d tried to tell Aurora how worried she was, her mother had only said, “Quiet, Octavia,” in that tone of hers that left no room for arguments. Octavia _hated_ that tone.  
  
After that, she’d tried to push away her worries, knowing that if Aurora wasn’t concerned then she shouldn’t be either. Now, her mother lay beside her, sleeping, her body softer than it ever was awake, her face loose and carefree. Octavia watched her, wondered if there was ever a day in her life when Aurora had looked like that while conscious.  
  
“I did that to you,” she whispered, gazing at her mother’s face, hovering her fingertips over her mouth and feeling the softness of her breath. “Didn’t I?”  
  
It made her guilty, to think of how much she’d changed everything. If she hadn’t come, Aurora wouldn’t always be so stressed about hiding her, feeding her, clothing her, entertaining her… loving her. If she hadn’t come, Bellamy wouldn’t have to rush home every day, would have more than just one friend, and would never have taken on responsibility for another life when he was less than half the age she was now… one he could be executed for harbouring. He would have had a choice- a chance.  
  
They both said they didn’t regret it. But could they really tell her the truth?  
  
Octavia curled her face into her mother’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of her, one of the two most familiar and comforting scents in her life. She tried to imagine being curled inside her mother’s belly as a tiny little thing, wriggly and warm. She wished she could remember that. She comforted herself with the knowledge that once, in Aurora, she had been outside this room. She knew she would never get closer than that.  
  
Octavia had long since given up on Bellamy’s promises that he would take her out, that they could leave their quarters, or that she could be free. She pretended that she still believed it, because she knew it meant so much to him. He needed to imagine that he could give that to her, and so she let him hope. It was the least she could do.  
  
Where _was_ Bellamy? And why had their mother silenced her concerns so quickly when she’d worried for him? In more ways than one, Octavia had never gotten used to being left in the dark.  
  
Raising her face from Aurora’s shoulder, she saw that her mother’s eyes were open in the dim red light given off by the clock, saw her looking at her. It startled her.  
  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she whispered, embarrassed.  
  
Aurora’s voice was soft, tender. “Why would I? When your fourteen-year-old daughter cuddles with you, you enjoy it. You don’t say anything.”  
  
Octavia smiled at her and scooted closer, letting her head drop onto her mother’s shoulder again. Aurora’s hand raised, her fingers threading through her hair. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” When her daughter didn’t answer she guessed, “Bellamy? He’s okay.”  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
“At work.”  
  
“But there was nothing on his roster this late,” she protested.  
  
“Hush, Octavia,” her mother said, but her voice was more soothing than it was when she usually said that. “Do you want me to read to you?”  
  
“Don’t you think I’m a little old for that?” Octavia asked, mostly because she was annoyed at being silenced yet again.  
  
But Aurora only laughed softly and said, “I’m a lot older than you and I enjoy it.”  
  
“Fine,” Octavia retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go ahead.”  
  
Her mother didn’t seem to notice her bad attitude, which made her feel even more sour, but in spite of herself she felt drawn in as Aurora reached over for her tablet and pulled up a story of African mythology.  
  
Aurora chose the story of the Yennenga, who was a princess and a warrior. She had a horse and commanded a battalion of her very own in her father’s army, winning wars and becoming proficient in many weapons. All at fourteen, the age Octavia was now.  
  
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you that a woman can’t be fierce and brave,” Aurora said firmly, at the conclusion of the story.  
  
Her mother often started sentences with ‘don’t ever let anyone tell you,’ but it always struck Octavia as funny because who besides Aurora herself and Bellamy would ever tell her anything? And would _they_ really tell her something that she would need to unlearn?  
  
Octavia knew from previous tellings that Yennenga had wanted to marry, but her father had forbade it because she was too valuable as a soldier, and when she’d tried to defy him he’d locked her up. But Aurora left that part out tonight.  
  
Setting down her tablet, Aurora yawned and pulled the blanket up over the both of them, ensuring her daughter was tucked in well. “Go to sleep,” she said.  
  
“I’m not tired,” Octavia protested.  
  
“Your brother is fine.” Aurora rolled over, tucking herself into the wall. Octavia glared at her back for a while, but there was no use asking more questions because her mother was asleep again almost immediately.  
  
She didn’t have to worry too much longer, before she heard the door being pushed open. She tensed in fear like always, until she saw Bellamy’s familiar face. She just watched him for a moment, how he moved quietly, thinking that both of them must be asleep. She watched him kick off his boots, remove his jacket, hang it up. He disappeared into the bathroom for a little while, and when he came back out she expected him to strip down to boxers and climb into his bunk but he didn’t. Instead, he went to their little table and sat down as heavily as a person could while still being totally silent.  
  
She watched her brother brush a hand over his face, from his chin up to the top of his head, his fingers sliding into his hair, slowly carding through it. Then he placed his elbows to the table and dropped his head into his hands.  
  
Octavia slid out from under the blanket and felt her bare feet touch the cold metal floor, but she ignored the shock. Not wanting to wake Aurora or shatter Bellamy’s moment she padded over to him on silent feet, and then she wrapped her arms around him from the side, burying her face in his neck.  
  
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He raised that same hand, sliding it into her hair in a much gentler motion than he had when he’d raked it through his own. She let him hold her for a long moment, felt his body relax just a little.  
  
When she pulled back, he looked at her with sad eyes, but at the same time his lips were curled into a gentle smile. “Hey, O,” he whispered.  
  
“Hey,” she whispered back, sitting in the chair next to him, glancing over toward their mother, wondering if she was still asleep or just pretending again. “Where were you?”  
  
“I’m sorry, I had work,” he said.  
  
He was echoing their mother’s lie. But why?  
  
“Bell… there was nothing on the roster,” she protested.  
  
“Not that kind of work,” he said, shaking his head, confusing her further.  
  
Octavia darted her eyes across his face, trying to read between lines she didn’t understand. She finally settled for, “I was worried.”  
  
Bellamy frowned, his eyes flickering toward Aurora. “Didn’t she tell you I’d be late?” he asked, an edge to his voice.  
  
“Yeah, but I didn’t know where you were.”  
  
He watched her for a moment, nodding his head. “Sorry, O. Trust me, I would have _much_ rather been here with you.” Again, that gentle smile, his expression soft, but it was also hiding something. Wherever he’d been, he’d hated it, a lot more than he was letting on.  
  
It made her want to gather him up in her arms and protect him in the same way he always swore to protect her from anything bad. But it was hard when she didn’t know what was troubling him so much, and knew he’d never tell her.  
  
“You should go to bed,” he said gently, flicking his eyebrows towards the bunks. “We both should.”  
  
“Don’t lie,” she said, without thinking.  
  
His gaze returned to hers, his eyebrows slightly knitted as he searched her eyes for a moment before he said, “I’m not lying.”  
  
“You can trust me,” she said, that statement just as impulsive as the first.  
  
She watched his face soften as he shook his head, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Hey, I _do_ trust you.”  
  
“Then where were you?” she demanded. “Why are you so unhappy?”  
  
Bellamy let out a breath, the two of them losing eye contact as he pulled to his feet. “Octavia, that’s not about trust.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” she said, standing as well, blocking him in case he tried to move away. “You’re just protecting me, right?”  
  
“Come on, O, not tonight, okay?” he asked, his voice heavy.  
  
She gritted her teeth and bit out, “Fine.”  
  
He just watched her for a moment, but if he was thinking of saying more he decided against it, because in the next moment he was turning and putting his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, swinging himself up to the top bunk. “Goodnight, Octavia,” he said, rolling onto his side and facing the wall, his posture almost identical to Aurora’s in the bunk beneath him.  
  
Octavia just glared at both of them for a long moment, trying to decide who she was least angry with, but in the end she couldn’t make up her mind, so she grabbed her blanket and stomped over to the ottoman, flopping down on the metal floor and laying her head on the soft seat, wrapping the blanket around her. As soon as she did it she felt silly and cold, but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of showing it.  
  
She expected one of them to say something, protest, invite her into their bed, but no one spoke. No one moved.  
  
Octavia fumed silently until she fell asleep.  
  
When she woke again, she was snuggled warmly under a few blankets, facing the wall, on the soft mattress of the top bunk. She knew Bellamy had moved her, which was both sweet and incredibly irritating.  
  
She could hear her mother’s voice, quiet and hissing, “-should back out- _now.”  
  
_ “I can’t just _back out,_ Mom,” Bellamy’s voice came next, protesting but quiet. “If I do, then Nygel-”  
  
“Nygel is all talk,” Aurora interrupted him. “She won’t make problems for herself. She’s just digging you deeper and deeper, and then what? If she keeps escalating things like this, I’ll end it myself.”  
  
Octavia felt her heart quicken as she listened to them argue. Who was Nygel? What was she talking about doing? What did Aurora want to end?  
  
“No,” Bellamy growled, and Octavia could hear the apprehension in his voice. “No way. This is _my_ problem- I don’t need my damn _mother_ to handle this for me.”  
  
“Mind yourself, Bellamy Blake,” Aurora retorted, making Octavia stiffen a little, hearing the seriousness in her voice, how unhappy she was about whatever they were discussing. She went on, “If you’re going to take care of it, then take care of it- I’m not kidding. It’s bad enough you _did_ all this in the first-”  
  
“Stop,” Bellamy interrupted her, his voice thick with anger and stress. “Just stop it, O’s awake.”  
  
How did he know that?  
  
This was followed by a tense silence in the room, so Octavia had no choice but to roll over, look at the two of them- Aurora standing at their cabinet, restocking her kit, and Bellamy sitting at the table. Both of them had their backs to the bunks, but both were ramrod straight, almost trembling with tension.  
  
“Eat your breakfast, Octavia,” Aurora said, still not looking at her, shoving the last few things into her bag. She turned, fixing Bellamy with a hard look before she said, “I’m late for work.” Her lips on the top of Octavia’s head felt strange, and then she was gone, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.  
  
Octavia sat down and pulled the tray of food in front of her, picking at it a little. “Bell… who’s Nygel?” she asked finally, looking at her brother. But he didn’t meet her gaze, his brown eyes locked on the table.  
  
“Don’t,” he warned, his voice hard and edged with something like anger. He pushed up from the table, stalked to the bathroom, and shut himself inside. She heard the shower turn on, and she knew this was definitely not a topic that was going to be entertained, not for a second.  
  
So she just sat there, frowning at the table, listening to the water running and trying to work through what she’d just overheard. But with so many pieces of the puzzle missing, there was no way to put a single bit of it together.


	41. 41- Bellamy

It was early morning, an hour before training was set to begin for the day. Bellamy had grown accustomed to the small, dark, cramped quarters Nygel used as a meeting place between himself and her clients. The place was discreet but also depressing and lonely. It felt terribly cramped, even though it wasn’t much smaller than the room he shared with two other people- but it was the atmosphere that felt confining, not the physical space itself. It wasn’t homely, warm, or inviting, just utilitarian.  
  
He was still earning a lot of rations, but he was getting to the height of his tolerance for this kind of work. Aurora’s hours had been increased again at the factory, and so he didn’t need to rely on this work to feed his sister… and as much as he liked bringing home gifts and trinkets and seeing her face light up when she saw them, it wasn’t worth it.  
  
Just as his mother feared, Nygel was escalating things. He’d come to realise that she’d eased him into things gently, giving him more rations than the jobs were actually worth in the beginning to get him hooked, and once he’d agreed to keep going, she’d slowly dialled back his payments and dialled up the difficulty of his jobs. The woman who’d wanted her to tie him up and rape her had been the beginning of that, but since then he’d turned up at the apartment and met with women, and more frequently men, who had all sorts of dark and unusual desires.  
  
If he protested to Nygel, she only told him to be grateful for what he was getting and that he was lucky for the work. She had, grudgingly, allowed him to draw a few lines, but it was not at all a healthy employer/employee relationship, and Bellamy wanted out. But there was no way he was letting his mother handle it for him.  
  
Now, alone in the tiny quarters, Bellamy waited for whoever Nygel was sending him today. He hated when he arrived too early, because all he could do was sit there and think- about the work, about how much he hated it, and about just how his mother had done it for the last fourteen years. He knew that, like him, she did it for Octavia, and he’d stopped being disgusted by it because he now understood why… but it still made him uncomfortable. Worse than that, it made him angry, to think of men treating his mother in the awful ways that _those_ men treated women. He wished she could stop, but there was no way she could support two children on a seamstress’s rations. It wouldn’t be until Bellamy graduated from cadets and became a guard, moving Octavia into his quarters, that she could finally retire from her second job.  
  
So it was more important than ever, now that he knew firsthand what she went through, to make that happen... to get Octavia into a more stable situation where she didn’t have to worry about inspections, and give his mother a life where she didn’t have to sell herself to feed her family.  
  
The door opened, breaking Bellamy from his thoughts. He was glad to see it was a repeat client, since there was always some awkwardness in a first meeting.  
  
This guy, Ethan, wasn’t too bad. He didn’t have any weird fantasies, and he respected Bellamy’s boundaries, that he wasn’t willing to go all the way. Ethan was married to a woman and had a son, and he didn’t want to lose his family. Plus, because he was from one of the lower stations- not as low as Factory but close- and his wife was from Alpha, he also didn’t want the step down in status that a divorce would bring. Besides, he loved his wife, and so he indulged his other desires with men like Bellamy, who he could pay for and who would be discreet.  
  
Bellamy preferred women, and while he didn’t enjoy any of his activities in this cramped little room, at least with his female clients he found he could find _some_ pleasure in their bodies and fantasise something that could get him into the moment, at least enough to get through it. With men, it was somewhat different- physically it would often feel better than it did with women, since men were usually very skilled at giving him pleasure, but psychologically he couldn’t get as into it. But it didn’t mean any of his clients ever left unsatisfied- only Bellamy himself did, with a bad taste in his mouth from having to pretend here, then go home to Octavia and Aurora and pretend with them too.  
  
“How’s Landon?” Bellamy asked Ethan as both men started to undress. “He had a birthday, right?”  
  
Ethan smiled, nodding his head. “Yeah, ten years old now… he’s so excited about being double digits.” He chuckled.  
  
Bellamy smiled softly, remembering Octavia’s similar excitement, and even his own. Double digits seemed like a huge milestone. He could picture the little boy’s face, his big grin. Sometimes Bellamy wondered what life would have been like if Octavia had been a boy, a little brother instead of a little sister. In some ways, especially recently, things would have been much simpler. But in most ways, it would have been much less special too.  
  
Once they were naked they lay down, and Ethan pulled Bellamy close, kissing him, his hand sliding down Bellamy's hip to clutch at him His lips trailed down Bellamy's neck and then found his earlobe, giving it a tug. Bellamy moaned, letting his hands rove over Ethan's body too, knowing now what he liked, how he enjoyed being touched.  
  
Ethan was already hard, and Bellamy wasn’t far behind as Ethan continued to kiss down his body, scraping over his abs with his teeth and then moving lower, taking him into his mouth and swirling his tongue around and around. Bellamy let his eyes flutter closed, let his head fall backward on the pillow as one of his hands reached down and stroked at Ethan’s hair, then scratching at his scalp and pulling a hiss from the back of his throat. He forced himself to get lost in the moment, just enjoying the physical pleasure even if he felt nothing otherwise. Ethan soon pulled off and rolled onto his back, nudging Bellamy downward.  
  
He nibbled his way down Ethan’s chest, over his stomach, and then it was his turn to use his lips and tongue to give the other man the pleasure he was paying for. He felt Ethan’s hand anchor in his curls, holding them tightly, heard the moans and gasps escaping his lips, and he was diligent and attentive, not stopping until his client was satisfied, a sleepy grin on his face. Then Ethan returned the favour, and because he liked to cuddle Bellamy did too, laying on his back and letting the older man nuzzle into his side, shivering a little as his fingertips trailed over his skin.  
  
After a while Ethan sighed, “I have to go. Landon has the day off school and I promised we’d go to the tennis courts.”  
  
Alpha was like a wonderland compared to Factory- with tennis and basketball courts, gyms, and even trampolines. Everyone was allowed to use the facilities, but ther was a definite pecking order. Sometimes his cadet unit went there for physical activity, and Bellamy hated the pompous privileged jerks that sneered at them as they invaded their space. Still, he wished he could take Octavia there, let her jump as high as she could on the tramps and watch her face light up as she laughed and laughed.  
  
He had to remind himself that she was fourteen now and not four, but he still suspected her reaction would be much the same.  
  
“I’ll see you again?” Ethan asked as he dressed, smiling at Bellamy, his eyes trailing down his naked body as if he owned it.  
  
Bellamy hoped not, hoped he could put an end to this soon, but if he couldn’t then he had to keep his clients happy. “I look forward to it,” he said with a winning smile.  
  
One more lingering kiss and Ethan was out the door, back to his real life, and so was Bellamy, showering quickly and then pulling on his uniform, heading to his first class, the start of one more day that would get him closer to a real career.  
  
  
  
“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” Vaughn remarked that evening, as they finished training for the day. “Even for you.”  
  
Bellamy didn’t respond. He was preoccupied, thinking about Nygel, about how he was going to put a stop to all this. He was done- more than done- but he knew she didn’t want to let him go. And if he wasn’t careful, with as well connected as she was, he could make his family’s life a living hell.  
  
Vaughn gave him a hard look like he was trying to diagnose a particularly worrying disease and then he declared, “You need a drink.”  
  
"What?" Bellamy was momentarily surprised from his thoughts, looking up at his friend. He shook his head. "No. No way. I can't drink, and even if I could, I don't have the rations for it."  
  
“See, that’s your problem right there,” Vaughn informed him as they headed into the corridor. “Let me _buy_ you a drink, then.”  
  
"I can't drink," Bellamy repeated, setting off on their usual route, where they walked together as far as Vaughn's quarters before Bellamy carried on to Factory.  
  
"Yeah, I don't even understand what that means." Vaughn said, shaking his head.  
  
"It means I have to go home."  
  
“Come on, seriously, we haven’t hung out in forever and I’m thirsty.”  
  
Only because he wanted to delay his confrontation with Nygel as long as possible did Bellamy finally agree- grudgingly- to have a drink.  
  
Vaughn took him to Mecha, where most people liked to drink if they were going to drink outside the comforts of their own cushy homes, since most people who could afford to drink were from the higher stations. But Bellamy had long since let go of his hang-up that Vaughn was just slumming it when they went places together; he knew the guy was actually genuine.  
  
They grabbed a table, and while they waited to be served Bellamy tried not to dwell on what was coming. He knew he had to end things with Nygel, but he didn’t know how, and he hated the impact it was having on his home life. Not only was his mother on his back about it, but Octavia had gotten close to learning something he never wanted her to understand.  
  
It had to end. The only question was how.  
  
“Hey, Vaughn,” a female voice came from next to them.  
  
With a smile, Vaughn looked up at their server. Bellamy glanced up too and saw a pretty young woman about his own age, her honey brown hair framing her face in loose curls, her dark eyes half-lidded, her full lips smiling at the both of them.  
  
“Bellamy, Gina- Gina, Bellamy,” Vaughn said. He ordered their drinks and Gina moved away to get them, and Bellamy couldn’t help but admire the curve of her hips as she walked.  
  
When he turned back to his friend, Vaughn was grinning at him. “Beautiful, right?”  
  
“Yeah, she’s pretty,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, wanting to shut down Vaughn’s inevitable teasing before it started. He couldn’t help but wonder what a girl like that would think about someone in a line of work like his- not cadets of course, but the other job. Being in the food service industry, he hoped Gina wasn’t connected to Nygel, not that Nygel would say anything… at least, not unless he pissed her off. Which he was probably about to.  
  
His efforts to deflect had been in vain and Vaughn teased him, “Well, since you’re _dying_ to know, yes, unfortunately she does have a boyfriend.”  
  
“I really don’t care,” Bellamy informed his friend, wanting to shut this down.  
  
_“But_ I heard they might be on the rocks,” Vaughn continued as if he hadn’t heard.  
  
“I _really_ don’t care,” Bellamy countered, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I’m just saying, by the time you work yourself up to asking her out, she might be available,” Vaughn teased with a playful shrug of his shoulders.  
  
“Hilarious,” Bellamy said dryly.  
  
“Yeah, who am I kidding,” Vaughn complained ruefully. “You never ask anybody out. I swear, I’ll be married with a kid before you ever get a date.”  
  
“Aren’t you practically engaged already?” Gina teased as she appeared beside them, a wry smile on her face. She set down two glasses and added, “You guys have been together since you were like ten years old, right? I’m pretty sure Jake was in here just last week preparing wedding invitations.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Vaughn retorted, making a face. But Bellamy saw his cheeks flushing a deep crimson, which was easy to see on someone with a complexion like his. After a moment he mumbled, “Um… we’re actually taking a break… or kind of broke up, I guess. Cadets are crazy, and so is medical. No time.”  
  
“I didn’t know that,” Bellamy said, surprised. He tried to remember Vaughn’s girlfriend’s name, but he couldn’t. Maybe he’d never told him?  
  
“Dude, I moped about it for like two weeks,” Vaughn said, rolling his eyes, but there was a touch of hurt in his voice. “I swear you’ve got a mind like a sieve.”  
  
Gina gave Vaughn a sympathetic look and said gently, “I’m sure you’ll work things out.” After a moment she turned her attention to Bellamy and smiled at him. “Drink’s on the house, since you’ve never been here before.”  
  
He was surprised she could do that. “Is this your place?”  
  
“My dad’s,” she said, still smiling at him. “But yeah, one day it’ll be mine.”  
  
“And you’ll be good at it,” Vaughn told her, seeming grateful for the change of subject. He added to Bellamy, “She’s great at listening to problems- especially since my so-called best friend ignores me all the time.” He softened that comment with a wry smile and said, “I talk about you all the time.”  
  
Bellamy shot him a good-natured glare but Gina just giggled, shaking her head. “He actually does, but in a good way,” she assured him.  
  
Then Gina had to move away to tend to other customers, leaving the two young men alone. They sipped at their small glasses of alcohol, which Bellamy enjoyed as an exceedingly rare treat. Still, in the back of his mind was always Nygel- could he go there after this? Turn in his resignation or whatever you did to quit a trade like this? Demand that she leave him alone, forget his name? What kind of fallout would _that_ bring?  
  
Sitting in the bar and chatting with Vaughn for a while was a good distraction, but the consequence of that was that by the time he realised how late it was, he couldn't do anything but go home. Truthfully, he realised he’d probably done that on purpose. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Nygel, or how he was going to end things. But for now, luckily, he didn’t have to worry- Octavia would be waiting for him, so he had to go home. Nygel was now a problem for another day, when hopefully he’d have a much better plan.  
  
Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at Gina when she said goodbye to them as they headed out, and then he had to endure Vaughn’s merciless teasing about pretty barmaids, knowing that it didn’t matter- he didn’t date, he never would, and it wasn’t worth even thinking about. Finally Vaughn grew bored with the subject and dropped it, and they walked for a while in silence until they went their separate ways, off to their respective stations and their very different lives.


	42. 42- Octavia

“Why are you so quiet?” Aurora asked her daughter, glancing up from her sewing to look over at Octavia, who was working on her own piece of Aurora’s current job order.  
  
Mother and daughter locked eyes- Aurora’s brown gaze narrowed in concern, Octavia’s blue eyes wider, sadder.  
  
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m working.”  
  
“Sometimes it’s nice to talk when you work,” her mother pointed out. Her needle moved smoothly through the fabric. Octavia’s own handiwork was nearly as good, no longer her wobbly and awkward childhood stitches.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about anything,” Octavia said, quietly. In reality she did want to talk, she just didn’t know what to say. There were so many questions swirling around in her head these days, she hardly knew where to begin.  
  
“Well,” Aurora said after a moment. “You don’t have to.”  
  
They sewed in silence for a little while, and then Octavia finished her seam, tied it off, and neatly folded the shirt. In the neckline, just under the shoulder stitching, she started working in a tiny ‘O.B,’ black thread on the black fabric.  
  
“What are you doing?” Aurora asked suddenly, making her jump.  
  
“Nothing. It’s finished.”  
  
Her mother reached out and took the shirt, examining the seam she’d just been marking with the letters of her name. “Octavia,” she snapped, shooting her a dark look as she ripped the stitches out, removing her initials from the shirt.  
  
Octavia glowered at the table as Aurora demanded, “Why would you _do_ that?” When her daughter didn’t answer her, she reached out and took her chin in her hand, lifting her face to look at her.  
  
Octavia felt her jaw tighten as she pulled her face out of Aurora’s grip. “It’s nothing, Mom, I’m just… I’m leaving my mark.” She felt her face burning.  
  
“What you’re _doing_ is drawing unnecessary attention to yourself,” her mother lectured. “What you’re _doing_ is taking the risk that someone will wonder about these initials, ask _me_ about them because this was _my_ job, and then what will I say? What you’re _doing_ –”  
  
Octavia felt more and more anger boiling up inside her with every word, and finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Enough!” she exclaimed, cutting her mother off, the volume of her voice quiet as ever but the tone harsh and angry.  
  
Aurora became silent. She blinked, staring at her daughter for a moment. Finally she asked more softly, “Octavia, what’s wrong?”  
  
“Same thing that’s _always_ wrong,” she retorted, feeling like her every nerve ending was trembling with angry tension. “I want to exist. I want to be real. I was being smart, I was using black thread on a black shirt- no one was ever going to notice, Mom.”  
  
“Then why?” her mother asked, her exasperation seeming to mount again. “What’s the point if no one knows?”  
  
Octavia let out a long breath and said quietly, “Because _I’d_ know. I’d know there was something out there… something that’s mine and no one else's.” She felt so stupid, but it was the truth.  
  
She expected her mother to retort something, scoff at her maybe, dismiss it, but instead Aurora was quiet for a long moment. Finally she said, her voice gentle, “I wish things could be different for you, Octavia… I really do. It’s not fair and I know it’s hard and I’m sorry for that.”  
  
For a moment Octavia was silent with surprise, not having expected Aurora to say all that. Her mother’s honesty, her compassion, disarmed her, and she found her eyes filling a little with tears as she asked for the first time in her life, “Why did you have me? Why, when you knew exactly what my life would be like?”  
  
It was a question she had voiced to Bellamy before, but never to her mother- not in fourteen years of life, the majority of which had been spent pondering that very idea: why did she exist? Now she found herself holding her breath, wanting to hear an answer from the one person who held the truth in her hands. Part of her was scared of what she’d say, but a bigger part of her was afraid that she’d refuse to answer.  
  
But her mother did respond, and her voice was soft as she spoke, “I was happy when it was just the three of us- me, Bellamy, and his father. I never dreamed of a second child because nobody did.”  
  
It was strange for Octavia to hear her mother speak of a ‘three of us’ that didn’t include her, even though intellectually she knew that had been the case, and for years. She stayed silent, just listening.  
  
Aurora went on, “I know that you and your brother think I planned everything out meticulously… that I thought of every possibility and had a strategy for every angle. But I didn’t.”  
  
Octavia could remember, far in the back of her mind, the time she woke up and saw her mother neatly cutting through the floor with a plasma torch. She remembered how it felt to be forced into the hole that first time, the terror, and that it wasn’t until Bellamy got in with her that she could relax enough not to scream.  
  
No, she knew her mother hadn’t planned everything out.  
  
Her mother said nothing of the next few years, of Bellamy’s father or his execution, and then, gently, she said, “And then one day you were there. My implant must have failed, and I didn’t realise it because why would I? But I felt you wriggling, like a little fish inside me.” A tiny smile spread over her lips, and Octavia couldn’t help but wonder what that might feel like- a tiny person inside you, making itself known. Octavia knew that she would never feel that, that her mother never should have felt it a second time, not with Bellamy still breathing.  
  
“And then what did you do?” she couldn’t help but ask.  
  
Her mother met her gaze, and she just watched her for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether Octavia could handle the truth. Finally she said, “I cried- sobbed myself to sleep, I was so scared.”  
  
“Then why did you keep me?” She thought about what her mother had said, about how happy she’d been long before her birth- just the three of them. So she guessed, “Was it because of my father?”  
  
Aurora let out a snort that was so like the indignant noise Bellamy sometimes made. “No,” she said firmly. “It had nothing to do with _him.”_  
  
Octavia almost asked who _he_ was, almost asked about her father for the first time in her life- a question she had never even voiced to her brother- but she didn’t.  
  
“Then why?” she asked instead.  
  
Her mother released a long breath. She shook her head, shrugged a little. “It wasn’t a big decision, Octavia… you were just there. I chose _not_ to do something, I didn’t chose _to_ do something.”  
  
So that was it- she hadn’t made a big decision to keep her. She’d just opted to do nothing until it was too late.  
  
“But you were scared, right? I mean God, Mom, how did you even keep me hidden in the beginning, when I was little? I must have cried. I must have cried a lot- I was a _baby._ So _how?”_ It was like once she’d asked the first question, all the others started tumbling from her lips.  
  
But Aurora’s face had closed down, and she just shook her head. “That was a long time ago, Octavia. I did what I had to do- that’s all you need to know. End of conversation.”  
  
“Well, what if I _want_ to know more?” Octavia demanded.  
  
“It’s none of your business,” her mother countered.  
  
She couldn’t help but let out a laugh, but it was more disbelief than humour. “It’s none of _my_ business? Seriously? This is _completely_ about me, Mom.”  
  
_“About_ you, yes, but not your business,” Aurora said firmly, rising to her feet and going to their storage bench, putting away the materials they’d just been using to finish her sewing order.  
  
Octavia stood up too, staring at her mother for a long moment, feeling the anger building up in her chest. It was times like these that she _hated_ that she couldn’t make noise. Maybe if just once in her life she could scream, she’d feel better. But instead she clenched her fists, glared at Aurora’s back, and snapped, “I thought we were having a good conversation. I thought I was getting _through_ to you.”  
  
Suddenly, as if she could feel a switch flipping inside her, she felt her anger dissolve into sadness and her eyes filled with tears that she struggled to keep from falling. Then she whispered, voice wavering, “Mom… I thought you were going to tell me why I exist… who I really am.”  
  
It was the battle of her life- to be real, to exist, to have meaning and purpose and an identity that left some kind of evidence in its wake. To belong.  
  
Her mother turned, watching her for a long moment. Her voice was firm as she said, “Octavia Blake, you don’t need me, or your brother, or anyone else to tell you who you really are.”  
  
_“What_ anyone else?” she asked bitterly, some of her anger seeping back.  
  
“Stop it, Octavia,” Aurora said firmly, impatience colouring her tone.  
  
“But Mom-”  
  
“I mean it, that’s enough,” her mother growled, her voice a warning.  
  
Octavia spun on her heel, stalked over to the bunks, and yanked herself up by the ladder, flopping facedown in Bellamy’s bunk and burying her face in his pillow. She screamed at the top of her lungs, muffling the sound until she couldn’t breathe, wanting to kick her feet and pound her fists too, but not daring to make that much of a commotion. She felt so alone, so neglected and unloved and misunderstood, so frustrated and lost.  
  
When she finally lifted her head, exhausted, she found that her mother was gone.


	43. 43- Bellamy

Nygel had several large men who worked with her, big meaty guys who crossed their arms over their chests and blocked the way of anyone who tried to enter the mess hall outside of normal hours.  
  
“Let me pass,” he said to the one who happened to be standing in the doorway this evening. Bellamy had finished training for the day, and had told Vaughn he’d catch up with him later.  
  
The man, much older and bigger than him, glared down at him as though they’d never met, even though he knew damn well who Bellamy was.  
  
“It’s fine,” Nygel called out from inside the mess hall. After he shoved his past the man, deliberately slamming their shoulders together, he made his way inside the room, where Nygel was enjoying a late-night meal. She smiled up at him, motioning for him to sit across from her. “And what can I do for you tonight, Freckles?”  
  
She loved her nicknames- everyone who worked for her had them, partly for identity protection and partly because she found it cute. Bellamy didn’t find it cute. The only thing he liked about it was that he didn’t have to hear her crude mouth speak his real name. But he would have preferred a less childish one.  
  
It didn’t matter. After tonight, none of it would. He sat down at the table across from her and said, very firmly, “I’m out.”  
  
Nygel set her fork down and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her brown eyes fixed on him coldly. “Now what could you possibly mean by saying a thing like that?”  
  
“You know what I mean,” he said, equally cold. “I’m out. Done. No more- I quit.”  
  
“Is that so?” she asked him.  
  
“Yeah,” he answered. “It is.”  
  
Nygel just stared at him for a long moment, and then she very slowly shook her head. “No.”  
  
Bellamy felt his jaw tense. “What?”  
  
“You heard me,” she said, an amused smile spreading over her lips. “You’re lucrative, kid. You think I’d let you go that easy?”  
  
“You don’t _let me_ go,” he retorted. “I go when I say I go. And that’s now. I’m done… it’s over. I quit, end of conversation.” He pulled to his feet.  
  
“Sit down, boy,” Nygel said, all the humour gone from her face and voice.  
  
When he didn’t, the beefy man came over and did it for him.  
  
Nygel just continued to glare at him, and then she said, “I’ve been soft on you up to now because I like you. I let you call your own shots, what you are and are not comfortable doing, and I’ve given you some pretty easy assignments. And _this_ is how you repay me?”  
  
“I told you from the start this was temporary,” he reminded her.  
  
“And you were deluded from the start if you thought that was an option,” she countered.  
  
He blinked at her, not having expected that answer. He swallowed, nervous for the first time. “Look, I don’t have time anymore. The guard-”  
  
“The guard will be very interested in hearing what you’ve been doing on the side,” Nygel interrupted him calmly.  
  
“You wouldn’t,” he said after a moment of shocked silence, but she didn’t bother to answer because they both knew the truth- she would. She definitely would.  
  
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” Nygel said calmly. “You can quit if you want to. I won’t fight you on it. But you have to give me something in return.”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “What?”  
  
“Up to you,” she said with a shrug. “Something that’s worth losing you.”  
  
“No way,” he said immediately, shaking his head. “Name something and I’ll do my best, but I’m not playing your games. Whatever I bring you, you’ll say it’s not enough.”  
  
She smirked, just gazing at him for a long moment. “You can pay me back.”  
  
He frowned, confused. “What?”  
  
“Some of those jobs I gave you, I overpaid you. Three thousand ration points ought to make us even.”  
  
Bellamy shook his head, his lip curling a little in fury. “You know damn well I can’t afford that.”  
  
“You’re right, I do know damn well you can’t,” she answered evenly. “But that’s not _my_ problem.”  
  
“Come on,” he growled. “Be reasonable.”  
  
She tilted her head to the side, smiling at him. “And what in the world gave you the opinion that I was a reasonable woman, Freckles?”  
  
“Name something else,” he said, his voice heavy with anger.  
  
But in truth, he was already trying to figure out how to get his hands on that many rations. Could he steal them? Get his hands on a security code and change some numbers in the ration database? Borrow them from Vaughn?  
  
“Well…” Nygel said, interrupting his thoughts. “I suppose you could recruit a replacement. That would be worth more to me than the rations.”  
  
He was surprised by that comment. “What do you mean, a replacement?”  
  
She laughed a little. “You know what I mean. Find someone willing to take on your jobs, and I’ll let you off the hook. That’s fair.”  
  
Bellamy was silent for a long moment. “Who the hell am I going to recruit for you?” he asked. “First of all, I don’t want to tell anyone about this. Second, I sure as hell don’t know anyone who’d be interested. And third, there is no _way_ I’m condemning someone else to this shit.”  
  
Nygel continued laughing, shaking her head ruefully, and then she reached out and patted his cheek, forcing him to resist the urge to smack her as she said, “You’re a sweet kid at heart, really, aren’t you? Maybe in the future you should think twice about taking on a job you hate just to waste your rations on toys and extra food.”  
  
His jaw clenched. She had no _idea._ He wished he could set her right, but he knew he couldn’t.  
  
Pulling to his feet he said firmly, “Give me a few weeks to think about it- a few weeks without you breathing down my neck. I’ll have an answer for you then.”  
  
Nygel stood up too. “You’ve got _two_ weeks,” she said, which he’d kind of expected.  
  
Without a word, Bellamy turned on his heel and stalked out of the mess hall, feeling the rage boiling in his stomach, threatening to leap into his chest. He strode down the hall, not even noticing anyone that he was passing, just putting one foot in front of another as if he could leave his anger, his fear, and his frustration behind him.  
  
He had only somewhat calmed down when he reached the bar where Vaughn was waiting for him, but he was also craving a drink, so he decided to call it even and he looked around, finally spotting Vaughn at a back table. Gina was standing next to him, laughing and smiling as the two chatted.  
  
Bellamy pulled in a long breath, letting it out slowly, trying to calm down the rest of the way before he went over to the table.  
  
“-can hardly believe it,” Gina was saying as he approached the pair. “He seriously blew a month of oxygen out an airlock? For what? What a waste.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s pretty insane,” Vaughn agreed with a nod. “I heard it was as much as three months. The kid probably didn’t even realise what he was doing. I just hope they don’t float him over it.”  
  
“They might,” Gina said, shaking her head sadly. “I heard he’s from Factory.”  
  
“Mecha,” Vaughn corrected her. Then he saw Bellamy and he brightened, waving him closer to the table. “Hey man, sit down.”  
  
Bellamy did, glancing up at Gina as she gave him a winning smile, unable to resist the urge to curl his lips back, despite the stress that was still raging in his chest.  
  
“I’ll get you a drink,” she said, still smiling as she moved off.  
  
“How’d your errand go?” Vaughn asked him.  
  
Bellamy shook his head, saying nothing, but he obviously didn’t need to as Vaughn pushed his untouched drink across the table to him. “Here, you clearly need this more than I do.”  
  
He didn’t even hesitate before he picked up the little glass and threw it back, taking comfort in the burn that slid down his throat. Drinking still felt like a rare luxury, but it happened more often now, especially after a hard day of training. Bellamy could never stay as long as Vaughn wanted him to, but he still enjoyed the brief reprieve from his real life. And the alcohol helped to ease his nerves a little, not exactly eliminating his stress but at least making it more bearable.  
  
“Thanks,” he said to Vaughn, and then the two of them sat together quietly, Bellamy’s eyes on the table but not actually looking at it, his mind whirling with a million thoughts in a thousand different directions.  
  
Gina returned with two more drinks for each of them, and Bellamy ended up drinking all of them, which was totally unlike him. That plus the first one he’d had when he’d first sat down, and he had a hell of a lot more alcohol in his system than he ever had before.  
  
“Okay, you’re done,” Vaughn said with a chuckle, when Bellamy’s attempt to stack two glasses on top of each other was a lot harder than it should have been. He felt like everything was slowed down and weird, and like he could sleep for a year. All his thoughts of Nygel had faded to the background.  
  
“Are you going to walk him home?” Gina asked with a giggle as she watched Bellamy stand up, stumbling just a little over his feet.  
  
“Unless you want to,” Vaughn answered with a teasing grin.  
  
Bellamy couldn’t help but notice her blush, and part of him wanted to take her home- or rather, let _her_ take _him_ home- but beside the fact that she had a boyfriend, he also liked her. She was sweet and kind and funny, and he knew her too well now to treat her like one of his faceless conquests.  
  
“You’re hilarious,” Gina said to Vaughn, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. She reached for Bellamy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “See you next time, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” he said, still feeling a bit off- sleepy and unsteady- as he let Vaughn lead him out of the bar and down the corridor.  
  
It was only when they were in sight of the door to his quarters that he realised Vaughn intended to literally walk him home. He stopped in his tracks, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”  
  
“Bellamy-”  
  
“I’m _fine,”_ he insisted, planting his hands firmly on Vaughn’s shoulders. “Seriously. Goodnight.”  
  
For a moment it looked like Vaughn was going to insist, but then he just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Night, man,” he said, heading off towards Alpha station.  
  
Bellamy let out a breath of relief, the adrenaline of worry having sobered him up just a little. He only wobbled slightly during the few steps to his front door, pushing his way inside.  
  
Octavia was at the table, playing a game on his old school tablet, but she smiled when she looked up, seeing him there. Now that she was fifteen her legs and torso were growing longer, and though her eyes were still widely spaced and somewhat childlike, they were much wiser and more mature. He smiled at her, walking over, patting her on the head more heavy-handedly than he intended, before he pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the floor.  
  
His sister raised an eyebrow at him as she tracked his unusual movements. “What’s wrong with you?”  
  
Sinking into the chair across from her, letting his legs and arms go floppy, he let out a laugh. “What?”  
  
“You’re acting weird,” she told him, a small smile playing at her lips, but he wondered if he detected a bit of apprehension beneath it. “You look different.”  
  
He laughed again, unable to really stop himself. “Different how?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she said, scrutinising him for a moment. “You’re all… happy.”  
  
“Maybe I am happy,” he countered, though they both knew very well that he wasn’t.  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him, studying him for a moment. “Why? Where were you?”  
  
“Nowhere,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just hanging out with Vaughn for a little while, after training.” He might have been tipsy, but there was no way he was mentioning the other place he’d gone.  
  
Octavia was smart, though. “Vaughn and who else?”  
  
“Gina,” he told her, glad she hadn’t asked a question that required a lie.  
  
“Oh,” she said, and she fell silent for a moment.  
  
Bellamy frowned, reaching out and curling a hand over her arm on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey.”  
  
She looked at him, shrugged her shoulders. “You guys could hang out here sometime,” she said quietly.  
  
He’d noticed she liked it, the occasional time he brought Vaughn over. Even though she had to hide, she never complained. But for him it was way too weird.  
  
“No way,” he said, pulling his hand back, shaking his head. “I’m not going to bring friends over and banish you into the floor. You barely fit in there anymore.”  
  
“I don’t mind if it’s for a good reason,” she protested. Letting out a breath, she added, “Bell… do you realise I’ve literally never seen another girl besides Mom?”  
  
He hadn’t realised, though of course now that she'd said it he knew it was true. He looked at her and wondered what that would be like. For the millionth time, he wished he could take her outside. Just for an hour… even a minute… how much better would her life be then? If he could just give her one evening outside of this place, where she could interact with other people, people who weren’t related to her...  
  
But he knew he couldn’t. Not yet. He was still working on it.  
  
"Come on," he said, reaching for her hand, trying to tug her to her feet, stumbling just a little as he pulled to his own. "Dance with me." He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. She was small and fit against him perfectly, her breath warm on his neck. God how he loved this girl. He slid a hand into the small of her back, pressing her against him, leaned his face into the crook of her neck and breathed her in a little.  
  
She yanked her body away from his, shaking her head. "No, Bell, stop it. You're being weird and I don't _want_ to dance."  
  
His playful smile faded. “Octavia,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. “You’re going to get out of here.”  
  
“Don’t,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them again they were full of tears. “You can’t delude me anymore, big brother,” she whispered bitterly. “You’ve told me that a thousand times, and it never happens.”  
  
His heart sank, probably even lower than usual because of the alcohol. He raked his hands slowly through his hair, feeling belated guilt hit him like a punch in the gut. He slapped his cheeks so he'd sober up, so they could talk properly, so he'd stop being weird.  
  
But before he could say another word, he watched his sister turn, watched the way she avoided looking at him, going to the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. He heard the water turn on and he knew she was going into the shower to cry, which made him feel terrible. But what was he supposed to do? He _had_ told her a thousand times. Only he’d meant it, every time. Deep inside his heart was his ten-year-old self, the little boy who had dreamed of seeing his sister free, who had vowed to let her out and watch her dance down the corridors of the Ark.  
  
Bellamy didn’t care if she believed him or not. He was going to take her out of this room if it was the last thing he did.


	44. 44- Octavia

Bellamy had a particularly gruelling exam to study for, so Octavia was being extra quiet, alternating between studying and playing games on his old school tablet while he pored over his study guide. She was sure he would ace it, but as usual Bellamy was afraid to fail, so he was studying hard.  
  
Octavia was bored, but she tried not to show it. After she grew tired of the tablet, she pushed the table away and did jumping jacks above her old hiding place. She had been reading about fitness and knew she must be severely lacking, having only ten metres square in which to move around- if that. So exercise suddenly seemed like an important thing.  
  
After a little while Bellamy set down his tablet and watched her for a moment. “Are you preparing for a marathon?” he asked with a wry smile.  
  
“I’m not preparing for anything,” she said, her bangs bouncing in her eyes as she hopped up and down. Mostly to show off, she lowered herself down onto the floor and did some push-ups.  
  
Bellamy chuckled softly and got to his feet, dropping down next to her. “Try this,” he said, showing her a type of push-up she’d never seen, one-handed, clapping in between each rise and fall.  
  
She tried it and did better than she’d expected. It was clear from the expression on her brother’s face that he was also surprised, but his arms were a lot stronger so he still easily won their little contest. He folded his arms on the cold metal floor and lay on his stomach, his cheek settling onto his forearm, and Octavia copied him, feeling her long dark ponytail settle in the crook of her shoulder.  
  
As she looked at him, blue eyes on brown, she thought- not for the first time- that they only looked vaguely alike. There was that dimple in each of their chins, but where she had grown out of her freckles he hadn’t, and where her fine hair always hung like a straight curtain down her back, Bellamy’s thick hair curled and sprung out everywhere after a shower. Their noses were different; their lips too. And their eyes were worlds apart. Even their bodies were opposite- she was slender, small, and fine-boned, but Bellamy was taller and sturdy, one of his hands almost as big as both of hers. She knew part of that was because of gender, but still, they were different- very different.  
  
She couldn’t help where that train of thought took her- to their unknown fathers, his long dead, and hers… she didn’t even know. She wondered if Bellamy knew. What would he think if she asked? Would he tell her the truth? Octavia thought he would, but she didn’t ask. Somehow she thought it would hurt him.  
  
Bellamy reached out a hand, poked the soft part of her arm, just above her elbow. “Why are you so quiet?”  
  
“I’m always quiet,” she reminded him with a wry smile, which made him laugh but roll his eyes at her at the same time. She always liked his smile, how it flattened out his lips and creased the corners of his mouth. It changed his entire face, and it always softened even her darkest moods.  
  
With the two of them laying there together, on their stomachs on the metal floor, their arms folded under their heads, faces turned toward one another, smiling smiles that matched and did not match, Octavia felt that constant companion- her loneliness- recede into the background. She felt sorry for the kids she knew lived just beyond these walls, that they had no siblings, just one or two parents and friends, but no built-in playmates, no peer to travel the ups and downs of growing up. She was grateful for her brother, and she hoped that somewhere inside him, under all the burdens that her arrival must have given him, he was grateful for her too.  
  
“You’re thinking too hard, O,” he said, his voice playful. “I can see the gears working in your head.”  
  
“I was thinking I like you,” she said, making a face.  
  
He laughed. “Well that’s good.”  
  
Octavia swatted at his mess of curls. “You’re supposed to say you like me too.”  
  
“Hmm,” he teased her. “Nah.”  
  
“Wow, thanks a lot, big brother,” she teased back, prodding the underside of his knee with her big toe. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”  
  
“You are special,” he countered. “If you were any more special you’d be a mythological creature.”  
  
“I _am_ a mythological creature, remember?” she pointed out. “Most of the people on the Ark have barely heard the word ‘sister’ spoken out loud.”  
  
He laughed, nodding his head, unable to argue with her on that. So instead he curled his fingers into his armpit, tickling her.  
  
Octavia twisted away, smiling at him, shaking her head. “Don’t. I’m way too old for that, Bell.”  
  
“Oh man,” he groaned. “That must make me _really_ old, then.”  
  
“You said it, not me,” she informed him with a wicked grin. “It’s practically floating time for you.”  
  
Bellamy clapped a hand over his heart and pretended to be deeply hurt, but his brown eyes were still twinkling with humour as a mischievous smile spread over his lips, and she knew he was going to tickle her again. She saw him push himself up to his knees, saw his hands reach out, and she shoved herself backward, trying to scramble up. But not before he caught her wrist, hauling her towards him again, making her giggle softly as his fingers finally wriggled against her ribs.  
  
The sudden pounding on the door jolted them both into dead silence. They rose to their feet together, Bellamy instinctively side-stepping to half cover her from the doorway. They both held their breaths, waiting, not quite believing.  
  
But then it came again- three knocks, insistent.  
  
Bellamy was the first to jump into action, running for the table and shoving it aside, yanking up the panel in the floor. Octavia jumped into the hole and hunkered down on her knees, then lower, curling into herself in the tiny space. Bellamy gazed down at her for a moment, looking as scared as she felt. Why hadn’t their mother warned them? What was happening?  
  
“I’m scared, Bell,” she whispered, as he grabbed for the panel again.  
  
She hadn’t expected him to hear her, but he did, and he quickly knelt and reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “What do we say about fear?” he whispered urgently, echoing the words her mother had said to her a thousand times.  
  
“It’s a demon,” she answered reflexively. The knock came again, making her jump, and again he squeezed, then reached for her other hand and interlaced her fingers, removing his own hands from hers.  
  
“And when you feel afraid, I want you to hold tight and think of me, and you say to that demon, ‘screw you- I’m not afraid,’” he said firmly.  
  
Octavia couldn’t help a tiny smile, his personal twist on their mother’s lesson. Then the knock came again, and he closed the sky on her, and all she could see was the small, disjointed image of one tiny patch of ceiling, through the handhold. She made herself as still as stone, clutching her hands together.  
  
She tracked her brother’s footsteps to the door, heard it unlatch and swing open. Then his surprised voice came, “Vaughn?”  
  
The door closed again and this time two sets of footsteps- both familiar to her- trailed across the metal floor. She could just see the corner of Vaughn’s blond head above, and she watched him run a hand through his hair. “What took you so long?” he demanded of Bellamy.  
  
“I was busy.”  
  
“I thought maybe you were with someone. I heard a girl.”  
  
“No,” Bellamy said smoothly. “I was watching something on my tablet.”  
  
“Oh. Right.” Vaughn just stood there, but there was something weird about his voice- it was slightly thicker, unhappy. He didn't even try to crack a joke.  
  
“So what’s up?” Bellamy asked finally, when the silence stretched between them. Octavia knew that only she would have detected the nerves beneath his calm tone.  
  
“Nothing,” he said, dropping heavily into one of their chairs. Now Octavia could see him better, if she turned her head the right way, and he _did_ look sad. That handsome face she’d often admired like crestfallen, his blue eyes red-rimmed from crying. Couldn’t Bellamy see that?  
  
Apparently not, because the next words out of her brother’s mouth were, “Hey, this isn’t a good time.”  
  
Vaughn let out a short huff of air that could have been a laugh, but he didn’t look like he felt like laughing. He raised his head, looking at Bellamy- who Octavia couldn’t see. “Seriously?”  
  
“What?” her brother asked. “I’m trying to study.”  
  
“My girlfriend got arrested,” Vaughn informed him, seeming hurt and a bit disbelieving that Bellamy wasn’t asking why he was so upset. Octavia felt bad for him- she knew Bellamy was only afraid for her, but she trusted Vaughn. Even if he had known she was down there, he wouldn’t have done anything.  
  
Finally she saw her brother as he came and took the other chair, across from Vaughn. “Your girlfriend? I thought you guys broke up.”  
  
“We took a break,” Vaughn answered, his voice stiff. “Only because things were hectic. We were going to get back together.”  
  
“So what did she do?” Bellamy asked, not seeming to want to push that particular issue.  
  
“Treason,” Vaughn whispered, only just loud enough for Octavia to hear. “They’re going to float her as soon as she hits eighteen, I _know_ it.”  
  
She heard her brother’s long exhale, and then watched him reach out and give Vaughn’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. But she wondered- was he really? Or did he just want Vaughn to leave? Octavia hadn’t even known Vaughn _had_ a girlfriend, former or otherwise. In fact, she remembered once explicitly asking Bellamy about that- much to his annoyance- and he’d said no.  
  
“How can I just stand by and let her get floated?” Vaughn asked him, and even from under the floor Octavia could feel the sadness in his voice.  
  
Bellamy shook his head. “You aren’t letting anyone do anything. That’s what the council _does._ Maybe she’ll get a review… but treason? Yeah, that’s… that’s a hard charge to overcome.”  
  
“She didn’t actually _commit_ treason,” Vaughn protested. He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know _what_ she did, but she would never do that. I mean, God, her mother’s _on_ the council.”  
  
Octavia saw her brother stiffen and she knew he didn’t like hearing that. Then he said to Vaughn, “Listen, I’m really sorry this happened, but I’m sure when she has her review you can be there, put in a good word. But that won’t be for like a year, right? So until then, we need to pass our exams, and I _have_ to study.”  
  
The look Vaughn gave Bellamy made Octavia cringe. “Right,” he said, shoving to his feet, his voice angry. “Thanks a lot.”  
  
Bellamy stood too. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but-“  
  
“Wow,” Vaughn interrupted, moving to the door and out of Octavia’s view. “Imagine if you tried.”  
  
The door opened, then slammed. Bellamy let out a long breath, then went over to the door, opened it again, waited, and then closed it. He returned to her, pushing the table aside, and then lifting up the panel.  
  
Octavia hauled herself out of the floor, frowning at him. “He’s your friend, Bell. He’s obviously hurt and you just blew him off.”  
  
“What was I supposed to do?” he asked, sounding irritated. “Just leave you in there?”  
  
“I was fine,” she reminded him. “I’ve been in there a thousand times.” Most of the time her claustrophobia wasn’t too much to handle, and they both knew she _could_ have stayed in there longer if there was a need to.  
  
Bellamy just shook his head. “It’s his _ex-_ girlfriend anyway. They’ve been broken up for months. He just doesn’t have any real problems to worry about, so he has to make some up.”  
  
Octavia felt a swell of annoyance, and she gave him a disappointed look. “He’s your friend, Bell,” she repeated. “You should be his too.”  
  
“Stop it, Octavia,” he retorted, his voice like their mother’s. She glared at him, but clenched her jaw and grabbed his old school tablet off the table, folding herself into their mother’s bunk, ignoring him.  
  
Bellamy pulled his chair around to squarely face it away from her, and then he sat down on it, his shoulders hard as rocks as he resumed studying. She hoped he couldn’t read a single word.  
  
Octavia wished Vaughn had come to speak to _her_ about his girlfriend’s predicament. _She_ would have been helpful and understanding, warm and kind. She glared at Bellamy’s back for a moment, and then let out an irritated breath. Sometimes she felt like other people were wasted on her brother. He didn’t know how lucky he was.


	45. 45- Bellamy

“Mom?” Bellamy asked quietly, watching as the dark heads of Aurora and Octavia rose from where they were bowed over the table as they both looked to him, their hands still working through the fabric. Usually he didn’t think about how alike his mother and sister looked, although they did, but right now it was very obvious.  
  
“Yes?” Aurora asked, brushing her long dark hair over her ear as she looked at her son. Her eyes were weary as always, but that didn’t stop him.  
  
“Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”  
  
Octavia scowled a little, but Aurora just set down her sewing and rose wordlessly from the table. “I want that done before dinner,” she told her daughter, who just glared at both of them before shoving her needle back through her cloth.  
  
Bellamy and Aurora stepped into the little bathroom, closing the door. He watched as she raised a hand, her fingers rubbing at a knot in her shoulder as she leaned against the sink. They both knew Octavia would be listening so he kept his voice silent as he said, “I talked to Nygel.”  
  
His mother raised her eyebrows. “And?”  
  
“She wants me to do something for her, and then she’ll let me go.”  
  
Aurora’s breath came out long and heavy as her jaw clenched and she shook her head. “You’ve done _enough_ for that woman.” But then she asked, “What is it? What does she want?”  
  
His breath released with a level of stress that matched hers. “She wants me to recruit someone.”  
  
His mother’s face was unreadable. She only said, “I see.”  
  
“Mom,” he protested immediately. “I can’t _do_ that to someone.”  
  
A silence passed between them, and then she said firmly, “You’re not doing it. Nygel is.”  
  
He immediately shook his head. “No, I _would_ be doing it,” he protested. “I’d be bringing someone into that life, under her control, just so I could get out.”  
  
Aurora’s eyes, as they often did, had turned as hard as flint. “Then do it for your sister,” she said.  
  
Bellamy hesitated, but still he shook his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t take advantage of someone who’s as desperate as we are, Mom.”  
  
His mother reached out and put her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Bellamy Blake,” she said clearly, in her no-argument voice. “No one is as desperate is as we are.”  
  
He knew that wasn’t true, but even still, at the same time he knew that it was. It wasn’t fair, though. And it wasn’t practical. Even if he could find someone, and even if he could get that person into Nygel’s clutches without giving away his own role in that twisted little world of hers, it still meant that he would have condemned that person to the life he now despised. How could he do that, even for Octavia?  
  
“Mom, that would be…” He trailed off, shaking his head, falling silent. Finally he just said, “Don’t you want me to be _good?”_  
  
Her face softened just a little and she reached up, touching her palm to his cheek. “You _are_ good. You’re my son, and you’re a _good_ man. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that- not if it’s for the right reasons. For your sister.”  
  
Again he was reluctant to quite argue with that spin, but he still shook his head and answered her firmly, “But if I do this, I wouldn’t be good.”  
  
“And if you _don’t_ do it, then what?” she asked him bluntly. “Then you keep doing what you’re doing until you inevitably get caught and ejected from the guard program? And _then_ what will happen to Octavia?”  
  
He pulled in a breath as she laid it all out like that, and he _hated_ it. He didn’t know how to answer, because technically she was right, but still… he didn’t want to accept it. There _had_ to be another way.  
  
Aurora was moving for the door. “Your sister, your responsibility,” she reminded him- as if he needed reminding. Reaching for the handle, she said simply, “Make a decision.”  
  
Bellamy gritted his teeth, nodding his head. He didn’t know what he’d do yet, but he wanted her off his back so he assured her, “I got this.”  
  
His mother nodded as seriously as he had. Then she left him there alone.  
  
Moving to the sink, feeling worse than he had before he’d worked himself up to talk to her about this, Bellamy turned on the faucet and splashed his face, letting the cold beads of water trail down his skin. He avoided his gaze in the mirror, then dried off and returned to the main room, where Aurora had resumed her sewing. He avoided Octavia’s curious gaze and moved over to his boots, shoving his feet into them.  
  
“You’re leaving?” he heard her voice, full of dismay. “But you just got home, Bell.”  
  
“I’ll be back soon,” he told her, finally looking her way, and though he’d expected her face to make him feel guilty, instead it was a comfort. He smiled softly at her and said, “Promise.”  
  
Their mother didn’t look up from her sewing as she asked, “Are you going to that bar?” There was an edge of disdain in her voice.  
  
He hadn’t been planning on going there, but when she said that he shot her a glare and said, “Yeah.”  
  
He saw Octavia’s eyes darting between the two of them nervously, but Bellamy just shook his head and bent, yanking at his laces, silent.  
  
“Don’t you think your ration points could be better spent?” Aurora asked him, obviously not willing to drop the subject just yet.  
  
Bellamy tied off his second boot and straightened up, glaring at her. “Vaughn pays for the drinks. I never spend anything there.” And Gina sometimes gave them to him for free, but for some reason he didn’t want to mention that.  
  
“Well,” Aurora said, her voice still edged a little. “It must be nice to have a friend like him.”  
  
He knew what she meant- a friend from _Alpha._ Someone _privileged._ All the things his mother had taught him to disdain, Vaughn embodied, but Bellamy didn’t care- he _was_ a friend, and a good one. Practically his _only_ one.  
  
“I’m not doing this with you,” he told his mother firmly. He crossed the room and slid a hand onto Octavia’s arm where it was resting on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be back soon,” he told her softly, wishing he could take her with him- or that Aurora would leave.  
  
Octavia looked up at him, her blue gaze looking confused and hurt all at once. But before she could speak, their mother surprised both of them by reaching out and laying her hand overtop of the back of his, her thumb stroking Octavia’s arm for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  
  
Bellamy didn’t quite know what to say, so he just told her, “It’s fine…”  
  
“I’m under a lot of stress at work,” she said, and he knew it was true- she always was. “I don’t mean to take it out on you.”  
  
Even though he knew it would mean leaving Octavia alone, he couldn’t help but say impulsively, “Come with me then. Have a drink with me, Mom.”  
  
She smiled, clearly not expecting that particular invitation, but she shook her head, pulling her hand back. Bellamy did the same, then sat down on the third chair, wiggling his eyebrows at her a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on.”  
  
“You should, Mom,” Octavia said generously. “I’ll be fine. I can finish both our orders, don’t worry.”  
  
“If you can do both our orders then I have five more we should be starting on,” Aurora said, prompting a groan from Octavia’s lips.  
  
“That’s not the point,” Bellamy said, rolling his eyes. He glanced at the clock, knowing Vaughn wouldn’t be at the bar much longer. “But I need to go. Are you coming or not?” He didn’t know which answer to hope for.  
  
Aurora seemed to hesitate just for a moment, and then she shook her head. “No, there’s too much to do. Octavia and I will have a girls night.”  
  
He wondered if Octavia even knew what that was, because he was positive that his mother had never offered one before. Sure enough, his sister’s face was blank, making him chuckle a little. “Have fun sewing,” he said, standing up before assuring her once more, “I’ll be home soon.”  
  
“Yeah, have fun,” Octavia replied, her tone a bit flat, her eyes already falling back to the table. He watched her for a moment, again wishing he could take her with him. Not to drink of course, but just to go somewhere- anywhere.  
  
He was surprised again when his mother walked him to the door, and put her arms around him. As she held him, she said softly into his ear, “You are a _good_ man, Bellamy Blake. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not- not even you.”  
  
When she pulled back, he couldn’t help the smile on his face, at the way those words made him feel. He was grateful for her approval- so rare, so meaningful. “See you soon,” he told her softly, letting her open the door from him so he could step outside their quarters. Just over his mother’s left shoulder, right before she shut the door, he could see Octavia’s face, the longing expression. It followed him all the way to the bar.  
  
  
“Hey!” Vaughn called to him as soon as he walked in the door. “I thought you weren’t coming?”  
  
“I had a fight with my mom,” he said with a shrug. “Changed my mind.” He’d barely sat down when Gina had appeared at his elbow, depositing a drink in front of him and refilling Vaughn’s.  
  
“Once you’re a guard are you going to apply for independent quarters?” she asked him, her smile warm with greeting.  
  
“That’s the plan,” he agreed, picturing it for the millionth time- a real bedroom for Octavia, with a window.  
  
“Me too,” Vaughn spoke up. “The only reason I didn’t do it the second I turned eighteen is that my parents consider me a child until graduation. Next year can’t come soon enough.” He clinked his glass against Bellamy’s and drank his down.  
  
“Agreed,” Bellamy said seriously, sipping from his own glass. They were so close to the end of the program, so close to their new lives. Octavia was getting nearer to sixteen every day, which meant she was long overdue for her own bedroom, her own space… but better late than never.  
  
Gina took a break and sat down at the table with them. She and Vaughn got to chatting about their separate plans for that evening, neither of them seeming to notice Bellamy’s silence. He was soon deep in thought about Nygel again- what was he going to do? How was he going to approach this? Could he really do what she was asking, what his mother thought he should do?  
  
“Hey,” Vaughn said suddenly, giving his shoulder a poke. At Bellamy’s blank look, he rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little. “Typical,” he said with a playful grin. “You’d rather daydream than be part of the real world where we’re discussing life or death issues.”  
  
“Oh yeah, life or death,” Gina said with a mischievous smile, slanting her eyes in Bellamy’s direction. “I believe the topic was whether or not your cadet unit is going to be assigned to supervise collection of goods for the redistribution centre or whether you’re going to supervise a bunch of teenagers at a dance.”  
  
Vaughn let out a groan. “See, I _so_ hope we get the redistribution centre job, because that’s actually what real guards do.”  
  
“And because your girlfriend’s locked up and can’t go to that dance _with_ you?” Gina asked him gently, but with a touch of wryness to the words.  
  
Vaughn was silent for a moment, and then he allowed a small nod before he said, “Anyway, some of those people whose family members have been floated, they can go completely crazy and you actually have to use force to get them in line. I remember there was this little kid whose parents-”  
  
“Hang on,” Bellamy interrupted. “What dance are you talking about?”  
  
“The Unity Day dance,” Gina explained. “One of those masquerade ones we all had in school, remember? It’s in Factory this term.”  
  
“Junior or senior?” Bellamy asked her, his heart quickening a little. He ignored Vaughn’s perplexed look.  
  
“Senior,” Vaughn told him, shaking his head as though he was thinking that his friend had lost his mind. “Thirteen and up. _Why?”_  
  
“No reason,” he said, shrugging it off, affecting an air of boredom. “It doesn’t matter, I was just wondering. You’re right, it would be boring to supervise a bunch of annoying teenagers. I hope we get the reclamation job.”  
  
But what he was really thinking was, _If his cadet unit was assigned to supervision, then could Octavia go? Could that work? It would be so close to home._  
  
His mind raced. The dance would last two hours, three tops, and their mother would definitely be at work. It wouldn’t be far from their quarters. He could take her out, let her loose for say one hour, maybe two, then take her back again. He’d watch her the whole time, so she’d be safe. She could interact with other kids in a way he could supervise, and then he’d take her home again and those memories could sustain her for a few more months until he graduated and got somewhere decent for them to live, not to mention access to the information he craved- which sections of the station were closed at what times? Where could he take her that would be safe? How much could she explore? Who could she meet?  
  
“Hey, Bellamy,” Vaughn interrupted his thoughts once again. “Do you want another drink or not?”  
  
Gina was standing up again, her eyebrows raised at him, but he didn’t feel that he’d annoyed her because the smile on her face was the same as always- soft, amused. Pretty. He shook his head, pulling to his feet. “No. I have to go home.”  
  
Vaughn sat back in his chair, shaking his head as he looked up at him. “I don’t believe it.”  
  
“Well, believe it,” Bellamy answered him, flashing him a grin even though he knew Vaughn wouldn’t understand why. Without another word to either of them, he turned on his heel and headed home, no longer even thinking about Nygel. Nygel could wait. Right now, his mind was buzzing with much more exciting possibilities.


	46. 46- Octavia

Flicking aimlessly through Bellamy’s old school tablet for most of the day, Octavia had finally settled on reading a novel. It was a bit young for her liking, but it held her attention well enough in the long hours before anyone was due to come home. Then she’d come across the phrase ‘sweet sixteen,’ and that had led down a track of learning that had ended up making her feel depressed about her own circumstances.  
  
She was less than three months away from her sixteenth birthday, and according to her afternoon’s reading, that was a big deal. Only it didn’t feel like a big deal- not for her. What was one more year, alone and trapped in this room? She’d been here at six, she was here at sixteen, and she would be here at was sixty… until the day she died. And if Bellamy died first, as he most likely would, then one day he just wouldn’t come home, and she wouldn’t know what happened to him. His guard friends- maybe including Vaughn- would come to empty out his quarters so someone else could live there, and then they’d find her. And when they figured out who she was, they’d float her out the nearest airlock.  
  
It was a dark afternoon that Octavia passed in silence.  
  
Finally she got around to what she was _supposed_ to be doing, as Aurora would have said it, grabbing the day’s work and spreading the fabric out on the table, trying to decide which would be least boring.  
  
She passed a couple of hours, boots planted on the crossbeams beneath the table, mind racing in a million directions or sometimes just blank, her needle moving back and forth through the fabric, stitching the clothes back together so they could be used a little longer.  
  
When the door finally opened, she jumped a little, but it was only Bellamy. “O,” he said, smiling at her as he pulled the door shut. “You’ll never guess what’s about to happen.”  
  
She picked up on the excitement in his voice, but she was too down to react to it. Shrugging her shoulders and setting down her work she said, “Inspection.” What else could it be? Those were the only surprises she ever got. “I’ll get in the hole,” she added, already pulling to her feet.  
  
“No no,” Bellamy said quickly, crossing the room to her. “No no no.” He touched her arm, taking the seat opposite her and urging her, “O, sit.” He waved towards the chair. “Sit.” He still had that smile on his face and he told her, “This is great.”  
  
Octavia felt her heart sink in time with her body as she sat back heavily onto the chair. “Please Bell,” she said, putting her elbows on the table and sliding her hands over her face, already anticipating what might be coming. Just the other day he’d been regaling her with a description of how, on that particular night, the moon had seemed to rise over the edge of the Earth even rounder and more luminescent than ever. Usually she enjoyed those kinds of stories, but lately they’d only made her feel more trapped. “I don’t want to hear about another _amazing_ moonrise when I’m never going to be able to see one.” She reached for her needle and thread, pushing the sharp end back through the fabric.  
  
But Bellamy obviously had other plans as he said firmly, “O, you’re _going_ to see one. Right now.”  
  
She looked askance at him. What was he doing? Teasing her? Was this a joke? She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but excitement, sincerity, but what could he possibly be talking about? Unless there was a secret window behind a bulkhead that neither he nor their mother had ever mentioned, how exactly was she going to see a moonrise tonight?  
  
He must have seen her sour scepticism but still he just smiled at her. “The Unity Day masquerade starts in ten minutes,” he told her. He looked like he was trying to hold in his excitement as he went on, “Now, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure my cadet unit was working security.” As he spoke, he revealed what he was holding in his hands- a small mask, blue and shaped to fit a face just like hers.  
  
Suddenly her heart started pounding. Her body straightened and her eyes widened a little as she stared at him in utter disbelief. But she was daring to hope. In fact hope was flooding her every cell- she could feel it like a pounding in her ears. Bellamy wouldn’t toy with her like this, lie to her about something as important as this- something that he knew would make her so happy. Would he?  
  
Her brother continued, “I’m going to be there, watching you, the entire time.”  
  
He lifted the mask towards her, and she could feel her heart hammering as she reached out for it, taking it from him, looking down at it. It was such a small thing, light and basic, but it meant so much. It could be her ticket out of this room- just for an evening sure, but still. It was better than she’d ever had in almost sixteen years of life.  
  
She held the mask in her hands, looking up at him, staring really, trying to figure this out, any of it, trying to figure out how a normal day could turn into this so fast- the best day of her life. “Is this real?” she asked him, scared that at any moment, she’d be waking up in their mother’s bunk. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dreamt of escape.  
  
But Bellamy only smiled at her, nodding his head, his eyes soft with reassurance, twinkling with the excitement of what he was doing for her now. When she grinned and let out the breath she’d been holding, he laughed, sitting back in his seat, watching her fit the mask over her face, flicking her hair out from it so it settled flush against her skin. It felt strange, kind of cold, but she didn’t care- this flimsy piece of repurposed steel was her ticket into the Ark.  
  
He just kept grinning at her, so she gave him a flick of her chin and asked, “How do I look?” Noticing his expression change, how the grin faded and was replaced by a look of love and something else, something she couldn’t quite place, she couldn’t help but fall into it for a moment. Playfully she turned to the side and posed for him, like she imagined someone posing for a photograph would do.  
  
Bellamy chuckled softly, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before his expression reverted to normal and he told her, “Mysterious.” Not quite what she’d been going for, but she didn’t care.  
  
Then, suddenly, she felt a stab of fear, and her hands went to her face again. “Oh, Bell, what about _Mom?”_ she asked him, realising just how dead they would both be if she knew they were even thinking about doing this.  
  
“Hey,” Bellamy said, shaking his head, reaching out and sliding his hand onto her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Will you stop worrying? We’ll be back before she even knows you were gone.”  
  
Octavia was still scared, but her trust in him was absolute, so she tried to push it away. She grabbed her needle and tugged it from the fabric, setting it aside for later, watching with a hint of dread as Bellamy got to his feet and made his way outside, cracking the door as he had a million times to see if anyone was outside.  
  
He turned back to her, that smile spreading over his lips again as he asked her, “Want to go for a walk?”  
  
She couldn’t help but think of her much smaller self, the way she’d tucked herself into his arms and whispered, _I want to see the Ark, Bell. Take me on the tour!_ And how he’d smiled just like he was now and promised her, _One day._  
  
Back then, they used to play pretend instead. But today, Octavia smiled at him, nodding her head, and then he came back to her, reaching out a hand like a prince wanting to escort his lady. She gave him her hand, hopped down the step, and walked with him right up to the open door.  
  
At the threshold she hesitated, a bit of that fear creeping back again. This doorway had been a barrier- largely invisible- for the whole of her life. Outside there were people who wanted to steal her, tear their family apart, float their mother. Outside there were monsters.  
  
But Bellamy stepped through the door, and so she followed him. When he closed the door behind them she felt a sudden bolt of terror rise in her chest- the other side of their door, the long corridor leading away, the different lights, what lay ahead… all of it new and unknown. Terrifying. She took a step backward, into him, wanting to keep close because he was the only safe thing- not to mention the only thing at all- that she knew out here.  
  
“It’s okay,” he said gently. Only because he started to walk down the corridor and she didn’t want to lose sight of him did she follow, her hands gripping each other, feet uncertain. He looked back towards her occasionally as they walked, his presence reassuring her, but she could also tell that he was pretending they weren’t together, keeping a little ways ahead of her, just in case they ran into someone. She understood why but it made her nervous.  
  
Everything she saw she took in with wonder, trying to memorise all of it, knowing it was fleeting- she was Cinderella and it was almost midnight. Soon this _would_ all be a dream.  
  
Every sound she heard made her jump and turn towards it, noting the way the noise seemed to echo strangely, at distances her ears weren’t used to. Her eyes, too, had trouble focusing too far ahead of them, never having had the opportunity before today.  
  
Her brother’s steps were sure as he led her, and she scurried after him if he got more than a couple of metres ahead, wanting to make sure he was close enough to grab, just in case.  
  
Suddenly Bellamy stopped short, and turned to face her. They were in what looked like some kind of junction, where more than one corridor met. She looked up at him, into his eyes that were soft with tenderness, his lips curling into a gentle smile as he just gazed at her, as though he wanted these moments to last as long as possible.  
  
Then he stepped away, turning his head, indicating to her with a nod of his chin that she should look further down the corridor. She did, stepping past him, trusting him, knowing he would only ever show her good things, safe things.  
  
All at once, it was there- an open room, a huge window, and outside it through the glass beautiful orbs of colour and light. Exactly as she’d seen in photos or imagined but a thousand times better, a million times more real. She held her breath, her lips parting with a small smile of disbelief. She looked at her brother for a moment and he smiled, taking a step back to let her pass.  
  
Octavia tried to memorise every moment of this- the way her boots felt on the floor as she took cautious steps toward that window. The way her fists clenched at her sides, nervous with anticipation. Bellamy’s eyes on her back, his steps behind her, the deep breath he inhaled and then let go of slowly, as though this moment meant as much to him as it did to her. The huge grin that spread over her face as she got closer, hardly able to believe that she was seeing what she had always dreamed of. She thought of her necklace back at home, tucked into the hole, and wished she had it on now, wished she could compare it to the sight outside. Only she knew it would pale in comparison, that nothing else could ever be this beautiful.  
  
Through the pane of glass that was taller than she was, she saw the majesty of space for the first time in realtime, in person, with her own eyes and in her own time. The Earth was like a glowing ball of iridescent colour, all greens and blues and the whites of clouds swirling along the surface. It might have technically been dead or near death from the bombs, but it looked so alive that it took her breath away. Hovering just above it was the smaller moon. At five years old, when Bellamy had told her to close her eyes and pretended to take her to this very window, she had declared to her brother that the moon was the Earth’s little sister. Now, today, seeing it for real, she watched it glow like the planet, but more subtle. Unlike the Earth, it did look dead, or at least quiet, pockmarked and grey but as beautiful as anything else. And all around them for as far as she could see- which was a great, great distance- were the pinpoint lights of twinkling stars, more than she could ever count even if she stood in front of this window forever.  
  
She could see parts of the Ark too, in the corners of her vision, but it was the Earth that drew her eyes and held them. Imagine walking through that grass. Imagine feeling the flowing water ebbing against your legs. Imagine turning your face up and feeling droplets of rain. All of these things she had never known, but now, staring down at that beautiful sight, it was suddenly something she could visualise. She could think of her unknown relatives, generations ago, who had once walked on that ground and been free. She could suddenly imagine herself in their shoes, and her eyes prickled with tears at the thought. But they were happy tears, joyous for the sight and grateful for Bellamy for bringing it to her.  
  
She had never imagined being this lucky, to be standing here and seeing this. But thanks to her brother, it was true. He'd kept his promise to her- even after all these long years, he'd shown her the Ark. The love she had for him swelled in her chest.  
  
The first thing that interrupted her thoughts was music, a sudden upswell of a song she’d never heard, and it sounded like it was close but not too close- though her untrained ears couldn’t be sure just how far away it was. Then she heard laughter, footsteps, and she froze for a moment before slowly turning in that direction.  
  
There were people- not people like her mother and Bellamy but people who looked different… who had different coloured skin and hair, who moved differently, talked differently, laughed differently. For a moment she was overwhelmed by the variety, and despite Bellamy’s encouraging nod she turned her face back to the window, using that beautiful image to ground her trembling nerves for a moment.  
  
When she looked back at her brother, he was smiling at her, and he nodded in the direction of the music, lifting his eyebrows at her. She supposed this was, actually, what they’d come for, but the sight out the window had been so perfect she’d forgotten. That could have been surprise enough without the dance, and for a moment she considered not pushing their luck and just going home now, her fear creeping back in again.  
  
But Bellamy’s grin only widened, so she forced herself to be brave and stepped away from the window, following the other kids- kids her own age, who in another life she would have gone to school with, been friends with, and who knows what else? Instead they were strangers, but tonight she would dance with them as though they weren’t. It was enough.  
  
She looked behind her a couple of times to make sure Bellamy was following, and of course he was, his stance weirdly professional, not what she was used to. But he was with her and she knew he’d keep her safe.  
  
When she rounded a bend and arrived in the room where the music was playing, she was overwhelmed all over again. The only thing similar about the kids that filled the room was the fact that they were all wearing masks- different ones again- but otherwise they were more varied than she could have ever imagined.  
  
Suddenly shy, self-conscious, as she looked around the room, Octavia seized the hem of her dress in her hands- a dress she’d had for about seven years- and stretched the fabric out. It was ugly, plain, compared to what most of the others were wearing, but it was all she had. She shook her head, dropping the hem again. She wasn’t going to let something as stupid as a dress stop her from enjoying this night.  
  
Tilting her chin up, thinking of Bellamy and all he’d done to make this happen, she strode out onto the dance floor like she’d done it a thousand times. The crowd enveloped her and all at once, without any warning, she was one of them- just another kid on the Ark. _Finally._


	47. 47- Bellamy

When Bellamy rounded the corner into the passageway with the window- the one he’d dreamed of showing Octavia a thousand times- he turned to face her, a smile on his lips, his eyes soft as he looked at her. For a moment he just drank in her expression- the wonder and anticipation, the nervousness and trust. Then he stepped away, let her see what he had brought her here for, his little surprise before the real surprise.  
  
As he watched his sister walk to the window and look out at the sight before her, he saw her slowly take it in- the expanse of it, the beauty- and he pulled in a long breath, letting it out slowly, nodding just a little to himself as he absorbed this moment. It was perfect- _she_ was perfect- and he didn’t want to miss a single thing about this. As he watched her absorb what she was seeing he felt a lump rise in his throat, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of absolute relief from that ten-year-old still deep inside his heart, the one who had promised to see his sister dance down the corridors of the Ark.  
  
They weren’t quite there yet- this was just one place, one night- but they were on the way. He had promised her and he was making that promise come true. He loved her more in that moment than perhaps he had for the whole of his life, and all he could do was stand there and drink her in, hardly believing that it was real.  
  
When the music started and he knew the dance had begun, for a moment he thought he’d have to drag her there, which did not fit into his plan to appear standoffish and unknown to her. But his brave little sister strode forward, bringing a proud smile to his lips as he watched her blend into the crowd.  
  
He kept his distance, watching, making sure none of the boys tried anything, making sure the moment didn’t overwhelm her too much. But she was doing great. She seemed nervous, yes, and at first her movements on the dance floor were restrained and shy, but it wasn’t long before she was getting into the music as he knew she would, throwing her arms up and doing that spinning dance she’d invented at five, the one that never ceased to bring a smile to his lips.  
  
He was one of only a couple guards in the room- and not Vaughn, who at the last minute had managed to get himself switched to reclamation detail- so it was easy for Bellamy to keep an eye on Octavia and look like he was keeping an eye on the room. He was glad Vaughn wasn’t there, because while the couple of other cadets assigned to this annoying task simply ignored him, his friend probably would have picked up on the fact that he was watching one attendee above all others. The last thing he needed was Vaughn getting curious about her.  
  
Bellamy had already decided that two hours would be okay, but it would depend on Octavia. If she seemed to be fading or if she seemed to be overwhelmed, they’d go home early. But as long as she was having fun, then they’d stay. And she was definitely having fun. Spinning her arms in the air, jumping, bouncing to the beat, she was as good as any of the other kids out there- better, in fact.  
  
There were a couple of times where other kids spoke to her, tried to engage her in conversation, but Octavia would just smile at them and say nothing. He was glad- a little small-talk wouldn’t have hurt anything, but it would have been so new to her that he wasn’t sure whether she’d know what was okay to say and what wasn’t. He was relieved her instincts told her to stay silent.  
  
Nearly an hour passed like this, and he was impressed by his sister’s stamina. Having only moved around a few square metres her whole life, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d grown exhausted and ready for bed by now, but she was still throwing herself around the dance floor, only pausing in the brief spaces between songs to catch her breath. The big smile on her face was contagious.  
  
Then, suddenly, all at once, the music stopped and the lights came on to full brightness. Bellamy glanced up, momentarily confused, but then a ship-wide announcement came over the intercom that made his heart go cold. “Solar flare alert,” the voice said. “An X-class solar flare has begun on the starboard side of the Ark.”  
  
He looked for his sister and saw she was panicking. All around her, kids were removing their masks, but she was looking for him. Heart pounding, he quickly moved towards her, watching her eyes and movements grow more frantic, as the announcement continued, “All citizens must report to the nearest shelter zone immediately.”  
  
As soon as he was close enough, Bellamy reached out and seized her arm in his hand, catching her eyes and holding her gaze for a moment, trying to get her to calm down. She was still frantic, but he felt her body relax just a little. The truth was, he was frantic too. He knew guards- real guards, not his cadet unit- would be on the way. They couldn’t be here when they arrived.  
  
Keeping hold of her arm, he quickly pulled her towards the exit, ignoring the curious looks from the other kids.  
  
Then, suddenly, the guards were there. How had they arrived so fast? He could barely think over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his own heart pounding out a rhythm of terror. He quickly backed away, turning, curling a hand around his sister’s ribs and keeping her close as he tried to move away as calmly as possible so as not to draw attention. He could feel the stiffness of her body, the trembling just under the surface, as he kept his grip on her arm.  
  
“Bell,” she said, her voice thick with fear as he drew her deeper into the crowd again. “I need to get home!”  
  
“You will,” he said, and the words came out with more conviction than any he’d ever spoken. They _had_ to get her home. She couldn’t stay here another second, or everything they both knew by heart- all the most horrific things that had been drilled into them since her birth- would come to pass.  
  
The guards were swarming the place now, trying to process the kids as fast as they could so everyone could get to a shelter before the flare hit. He watched them, searching for a path through, a way to slip by undetected. Only there wasn’t one.  
  
“Bell,” Octavia said urgently from beside him. “What do we do?”  
  
“Listen to me,” he said, leaning down a little so he could look into her eyes. He could see the terror there and he wanted to calm her, but there was no time for anything but escape- and there was almost no time left for that. He spoke fast. “Whatever happens, you get back home, you get under the floor- you’ll be safe there from the flare, like always.” He could see the panic rising in her chest again, but he held her gaze, trying to keep his own calm for her sake.  
  
“What are you going to do?” she asked him.  
  
He didn’t know until she asked that question, and then it hit him all at once. “Create a distraction,” he told her, pulling the only thing he had- his shock baton- from his belt.  
  
He was calculating quickly in his head- if he shocked someone, the guards would come over. He could tell them that the kid was mouthing off, or refusing to produce his ID chip, or whatever he wanted- it didn’t matter, because for those few moments until his target regained their senses and protested, the guards would believe him, their attention would be drawn, and Octavia could go home. Whatever happened to him after that didn’t matter.  
  
“Go on,” he said quickly to Octavia, stepping away from her, pressing the release button that made his shock baton extend and power up as he searched the crowd for the best possible scapegoat.  
  
“Bell,” she called out from behind him, drawing his attention back to her for a moment. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes, the same eyes that had loved him and trusted him and believed him from the moment she’d been placed in his arms at birth, from the moment he’d promised her that he’d never let anything bad happen to her. Now they looked up at him in fear as desperately she asked him, “How do I get home?”  
  
It was at once the most obvious question in the world for her to ask, and also the one he’d never expected. He’d told her to run, to get home no matter what and get under the floor where it was safe, but how could she? She had followed him here and didn’t know one bulkhead from another, one corridor from the identical dozens on Factory, not to mention the near-identical hundreds on the Ark. He just stared at her, his world collapsing around him, as he realised how truly stupid he had been.  
  
That moment was all the guards needed to notice them and walk over. Shumway was with them, Shumway who was one of his instructors, and his voice was confused but not suspicious as he said, “Cadet Blake. Why is your weapon out?”  
  
Bellamy looked at this man and realised that all his hopes, the lives of everyone he loved and the safety of the sister he adored, all rested on this one man, on what he would do here today. But it also rested on him, on what _he_ was going to do now. Could he make Shumway leave them alone?  
  
Shumway stepped toward Octavia and said impatiently, “Mask off,” tugging it from her frightened face. It hung limply around her neck, like a symbol of Bellamy’s naivety, mocking him.  
  
Quickly he stepped in front of Octavia, making his body a shield, drawing Shumway’s attention to him instead as he said, “Uh, sir, she’s- she’s fine.” He tried to keep himself calm. “I already scanned her.”  
  
For a moment it worked- Shumway nodded, took a step away. He was bored, that was obvious, and breaking up a school dance was far beneath him. But then he paused, looking his cadet up and down, and Bellamy could see the first signs of interest flooding his gaze as he stated the obvious, “You don’t have a scanner.”  
  
Bellamy’s heart fell into his stomach. Behind him, he could feel the tension coming off Octavia in waves. He wanted to vomit and he was sure she did too, but there was no time for any of that- there was time only for him to get them out of this situation, and so he wracked his brain, trying to think of absolutely everything he knew about Shumway, for anything he could use.  
  
Shumway asked for Octavia’s ID chip. Bellamy tried desperately to think of some leverage.  
  
“Please,” he said, pulling the man’s eyes off his sister again. “Lieutenant Shumway, I’m begging you- she needs to leave.” Through his haze of panic, the only thought that had come to him was that Shumway liked men. Bellamy thought maybe once he’d even noticed the older man checking him out. He knew he was way out on a limb but he had no other option as he went on, shaking his head, panic slipping into his tone, “As a fellow guardsman, just let us walk out of here and I’ll do anything you want.” He glanced around to make sure no one else was listening as he said again, pointedly, _“Anything.”_  
  
There wasn’t even a momentary hope that Shumway would bite, not even a flicker of brief interest in the man’s eyes. The only thing Bellamy saw in his gaze was a firm desire to find out what was going on here, and perhaps even some disdain that Bellamy had gone so far as to practically solicit him. An edge to his voice, he said, “You’re not a guardsman yet, cadet.” Looking back to Octavia he said, “ID, now.”  
  
Of course, she didn’t have one. He could feel her terror as though it was something physical in the room with them, and he knew his own was just as bad.  
  
She ran- bolted suddenly and charged toward the exit. He wasn’t surprised that she did it, because what else _could_ she do? But it was an act of true desperation, and he felt his heart sink lower and lower, his stomach churn more and more violently, with every futile step she took towards that exit.  
  
“Stop her!” Shumway yelled, and two guards easily grabbed her before she could escape, each of them holding tightly to her arms as they hauled her back.  
  
Across the room, as though no one else was there, Bellamy’s eyes met his sister’s. His miserable brown gaze locked onto her horrified blue one. Neither of them spoke. What could they say? Both of them knew the world had just ended.


	48. 48- Octavia

When she ran for it, when she tried as best she could to fly across that room on her feet and go right through the wall of men who blocked her, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, faster than it ever had before. It was pure bravery and terror that allowed her to do that, to run in the direction of several armed guards- men in uniforms that had only ever meant upheaval and attack for their family, suffering for their mother and terror for her.  
  
But when they grabbed her, and she felt the vicelike grip of their hands around her arms, she knew it was all over. Her bravery meant nothing. Her terror, everything.  
  
As she locked eyes with her brother, she thought about all the times her mother had said, or forced Bellamy to reiterate, _If Octavia is ever found, then Mom will be floated, Octavia wil go into the SkyBox, and Bellamy will have to go on all alone and be miserable forever._  
  
Now it was happening. Now it was over- their lives, all of it. Done. This was it.  
  
When she thought of Aurora, she felt her eyes fill up. Her children had killed her, but their mother didn’t even know it yet. She was in her work shelter right now and she didn’t even know that she was already dead. That knowledge was like a knife in Octavia’s heart.  
  
Even though it was all over, she couldn’t stop struggling, couldn’t stop trying to escape the hands of those men, trying to get away. If she could just get _away,_ it would be like this day never happened. Nothing would have to change.  
  
_Please, please, just let me escape,_ she thought, struggling with every ounce of strength that she had.  
  
One of the guards yanked her upward, stronger than her, much stronger, able to pick her feet off the floor, growling at her to stop. But it hurt and she let out a cry.  
  
“Stop it,” Bellamy snapped, suddenly seeming to jolt from his shocked state as he rushed toward the two men who held her captive.  
  
The man who Bellamy had called Shumway grabbed the shock baton from her brother’s hand and deactivated it, tucking it into his own belt. He motioned to the man holding Octavia, and she was set back on her feet, but they didn’t let go of her. Why didn’t they just let _go?_  
  
There were so many faces around them, the kids who’d been dancing with her moments ago now staring, and she felt their eyes closing in on her, their judgement. She felt naked, dissected by those gazes, so many eyes on her when she had only ever been looked at by two sets for all the years of her life, both filled with love.  
  
And then Shumway grabbed Bellamy’s arm. She watched her brother twist out of his grip, but she couldn’t see if he put up any further fight because the two men holding her chose that moment to pull her from the room.  
  
Her heart froze as she lost sight of him, and that few moments seemed to stretch to an eternity. Craning her neck back, desperation rising like bile in her throat, she relaxed only a little when she saw that Bellamy was following her, hurrying to catch up, Shumway close behind. Her brother’s eyes locked with hers for a moment and then he turned away, back to Shumway.  
  
“Please,” Octavia heard him say, evidently still trying to reason with the man, his voice sounding as frantic as she felt. “Please, just let us go. I will literally do _anything,_ give you absolutely _anything._ Any of you- _all_ of you. I’m serious, name it and it’s yours. _Please.”  
  
_ Octavia squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to be terrified by the begging and despair in his voice.  
  
“Don’t embarrass yourself, cadet,” Shumway answered him sharply. “No more talking until we get there.”  
  
Octavia couldn’t help but wonder, _get where?,_ but no one said.  
  
She soon found out though, as they were taken to one of the shelters, past the throngs of people gathered there to avoid the flare, and into a small, stark room with nothing but a table and chairs. They were made to sit down. All the guards left except for Shumway, who sat on the other side of the table from them. Octavia wanted so badly to reach out to the side and catch Bellamy’s hand up in hers, to move her chair right next to his, or to fling herself into his arms and bury her face in his chest. But she didn’t move. She felt frozen with fear, overwhelmed by what was happening, by the proximity of all these strangers and the fact that her family was about to be destroyed. Her eyes were wide with terror, her hands clenched together in her lap, her back so straight it hurt. She could feel her body trembling.  
  
“Now,” Shumway said, his dark eyes fixed on hers. She found it intimidating, being looked at by him- by anyone- and she averted her own eyes. It made her want to curl into herself and hide, but she couldn’t. The room was sparse, bare. She wanted Bellamy to shield her but he didn’t move. He seemed dead next to her, stiff and numb. Next Shumway ordered her, “Give me your ID chip so we can sort this out.”  
  
Octavia turned her head, looking to Bellamy to see what she should do, how they’d get out of this, if they even could. Her brother looked back at her, but before either of them could speak, Shumway said sharply, _“Don’t_ look at him. Give me your ID chip.” The tone made her body clench again, her hands curling around each other tighter, her shoulders squaring.  
  
“She doesn’t have one,” Bellamy spoke up sharply, clearly trying to pull Shumway’s eyes from hers. Octavia glanced sideways, hearing the edge in her brother’s voice, seeing his fists clenched at the sides of his chair. She wondered if he would hit this man.  
  
“Where is it?” Shumway asked, still looking at her, ignoring him.  
  
“No,” Bellamy said, finally succeeding in drawing the older man’s attention his way. “She doesn’t _have_ one.”  
  
Shumway sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, Blake,” he said, finally ignoring Octavia now. “Go on. Who is she?”  
  
Octavia’s eyes flew to her brother. Surely he wasn’t going to _tell_ him? But his face told her he was thinking about it. Quickly she started to protest, “Bell-”  
  
“It’s okay,” he interrupted her gently, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Trust me.”  
  
She _did_ trust him, with all that she had, but she still felt robbed when he pulled his hand away again, and she was still terrified as she watched him turn back to Shumway. Then the words fell from his lips before she could reach out and stop them, “She’s my sister.”  
  
The shock was obvious on Shumway’s face. He just sat there, staring at Bellamy, and then he looked at Octavia for a long moment. It took all her power not to squirm beneath his gaze. Finally the man shifted his eyes back to Bellamy again. “How?”  
  
“That’s not important,” her brother said, his voice slow and careful. “I only told you that because I need you to understand how serious this is. If you don’t let us go, you know what will happen- our mother will be floated. _I_ might be floated. My sister will go into the SkyBox. Please- you must want _something?”  
  
_ Both times Bellamy had said ‘sister,’ Octavia had watched Shumway shift a little, as though the foreign word made him uncomfortable. Now he said, firm, “What I _want_ is to uphold the law, cadet. You know that.”  
  
Octavia felt a lump rise in her throat so fast it felt like she was going to choke, and then the tears were sliding down her cheeks as she let out a strangled sob. He wasn't going to help. They were screwed.  
  
“Hey,” Bellamy said urgently, reaching sideways for her, sliding a hand onto the back of her neck, squeezing gently, his voice soothing. “You’re okay… shshsh… it’s okay.”  
  
But they both knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t okay- it was nowhere near okay.  
  
“Please.” Octavia looked to Shumway, hearing herself begging now, the tears thick in her voice, her fear pushed aside for the moment with Bellamy’s reassuring hand on her skin. Still, she choked on the words as she begged, “Please don’t kill my mother.”  
  
She didn’t know this man, but he didn’t seem sorry at all as he said “I’m sorry” and rose to his feet. He seemed cruel as he added firmly, “That’s not up to me.”  
  
Bellamy stood as well, and he quickly walked around the table, putting himself between Shumway and the door. “You’re going to the council?” he asked desperately. When the answer was obvious despite the silence that followed, Bellamy shook his head. “This is my _family,_ Lieutenant. _Please._ There must be _something_ I can do- _anything.”  
  
_ But Shumway only glared at him. “I’m sorry about your mother, but she brought this on herself. She _chose_ to break the law, and in an extreme way.” He glanced at Octavia. “How _old_ is she?”  
  
“Almost sixteen,” she whispered, her eyes on the table, her voice bitter. _Sweet sixteen- what a sick joke.  
  
_ “Sixteen years is a long time to break the law,” Shumway said to Bellamy. “Your mother won’t be surprised by the consequences.”  
  
Bellamy's skin paled, and his eyes went wide as he shook his head. “Sir-”  
  
_“No,_ Blake,” he warned him in a voice that made Octavia jump. Shumway stabbed his finger into Bellamy’s chest. “Wait here.”  
  
As soon as the door closed, Octavia got hastily to her feet and ran over to her brother, throwing her arms around him. She could feel herself trembling, feel the desperate claws her fingers formed around his shoulders. Bellamy seemed to be in shock, his eyes huge and far away, but his arms still rose and wrapped around her tightly in return.  
  
Urgently she said, “Let’s run.”  
  
“Run where?” Bellamy asked her quietly, almost bitterly. He sounded absolutely broken, which was terrifying in itself because she’d never heard such a tone in his voice before. “There’s nowhere to go.” She knew he was right, but her instinct still said ‘run.’  
  
Instead she kept her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. She felt him trying to make his body like a cocoon around her, and she knew he was trying to help her feel safe despite these terribly unsafe circumstances, but it wasn’t working. Bellamy held her tightly, his chin tucking over her head. She clung to him, feeling her whole body shaking violently, terror hammering in her chest, unable to calm herself down, her teeth chattering.  
  
She waited for her to tell him what they were going to do, how they were going to fix this, but he was silent. With a cold horror she realised he didn’t know- he _couldn’t_ fix this.  
  
“I’m scared, Bell,” she whispered, her voice shaking with every word.  
  
He nodded his head just a little against hers. “Me too,” he whispered back, and she heard the matching tremor in his voice.  
  
If Bellamy _was_ trying to think of a solution, if he was going to come up with something and say how they could solve this, he didn’t have a chance. Before either of them could say another word to each other, the door opened again and Shumway was back, flanked by three other guards.  
  
Octavia felt Bellamy’s arms tighten around her immediately. She pressed her face into his chest, feeling like she was holding onto him for dear life, wishing she could disappear, to vanish into him. She refused to look. She felt like she did when she was little, and insisted she was invisible just because her own eyes were closed. But that wasn't a real thing and it didn’t help now. She heard her brother yell “No!” and then she was being grabbed, being dragged forcefully away from him.  
  
She wondered how long the bruises on their bodies would stay, since they tried so hard to keep together.  
  
“Bellamy!” she shrieked, feeling sheer panic clutching at her heart as she was dragged away from him, finally only just able to hold his wrist as the guards gripped her own arms firmly, yanking her backward. Bellamy grabbed her hand briefly, but then they lost even that last desperate connection as she was hauled towards the door. Her brother’s face was panicked, his eyes wild.  
  
“No, don’t _do_ this!” Bellamy shouted to Shumway, his voice full of desperation and terror. “Please, don’t take her. _Please!”  
  
_ “It’s already done,” Shumway answered him, his tone clipped and without sympathy. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”  
  
Octavia tried to make her limbs wide and her body stiff so she couldn’t be pulled through the door, because what if they took her outside and she couldn’t find her way back to him? Where was home, where was Bellamy? Where was anything she knew?  
  
But then something hard jabbed into her ribs, folding her over a little. It was a baton like the one Bellamy sometimes carried on duty, and the prodding of it hurt.  
  
“Don’t touch her!” she heard her brother roar, but when she raised her face she could see Shumway and another guard holding him back, stopping him from moving towards her, despite his struggling. The vision of him in front of her went wobbly as her eyes filled with a river of tears that spilled over down her cheeks.  
  
“Bell,” Octavia sobbed, wanting to go to him, wanting him to come to her, feeling the chasm between them like a keening agony. She felt her body slumping as she gave up hope, now held only by the firm grip of the guard’s hands around her upper arms. Those bruises, too, would last.  
  
She wanted to run home, if she could have found where home was. She wanted to crawl into her hole and never get out again, never even to dream of it. She wanted to die in there, safe and unknown. “Bell, _please,”_ she begged him, even though she knew it wasn't fair- he couldn't solve this.  
  
She heard her brother draw in a shaky breath. “Just give me one minute, _please,”_ he said, his voice tense, and finally those hands that held him allowed him to wrench himself free and move over to her, but no one let her go. Her brother slid his palms onto her cheeks, raised her face, and leaned down a little so he could look into her eyes. “Hey, O, listen to me,” he said, his voice urgent. She held his eyes like they were a lifeline, and they were. Those eyes had first looked her into existence- how could she be away from them, now or ever? But he was saying words she couldn’t comprehend, words that meant she _had_ to leave him. “You’ll be okay,” he was telling her. “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
“No,” she pleaded, shaking her head, trying to clutch at him again, but the guards held her arms too tightly. She focused on the feeling of his hands on her cheeks. “Please, Bell, don’t let them take me,” she sobbed. _“Please.”  
  
_ His eyes closed briefly and then opened again, and she saw his tears and knew that he was struggling with all his strength not to cry as hard as she still was. “It’s going to be alright,” he said, his voice wavering dangerously. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right?” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, waited for her miserable nod. “I promise- I’ll see you soon.”  
  
“That’s enough,” one of the guards holding her growled, yanking her away from him all at once, the connection broken so suddenly it pulled a gasp from her lips. When she was hauled from the room and the door was closed, hiding her brother from her, she just started screaming. She couldn’t stop.  
  
The panic was too much, too hard- the knowledge that she was being taken away from him, that their mother was going to die, that she was in the hands of strangers. She had no idea where she was going, and she knew that even if she could get away, she’d have no idea how to get home again. That sense of overwhelming loss, that horror, was the deepest pain she'd ever felt.  
  
She thrashed against the men holding her, shrieking, trying to escape them even as they hauled her further down the corridor, further away from everything she knew. The terror in her chest expanded more and more until she thought she would explode, die of a heart attack right there in the corridor as she kicked and yelled and screamed at the top of her lungs.  
  
Then, suddenly, her voice was cut off. She felt her body jolt, felt pain lancing from her head to her toes, a terrible pain that erupted from where one of the men jabbed her in the ribs with his baton. The pain flowed throughout her body, making her limbs go rigid and then spasm, until finally they went limp. Then she blacked out.  
  
  
  
When she awoke, she was in in a bright room with almost nothing in it, more barren than even her own quarters. The bed beneath her was unlike any she’d ever seen- not cut into the wall like their bunks, but standing in the middle of the room. Exposed, and covered not with sheets but with paper. Octavia quickly sat up, feeling a horrible tremble start to overtake her body. Where was she? What had happened? How long had it been?  
  
She looked around desperately, then slid off the bed, heading for the door. What lay outside she didn’t know, but she was going out. Only it opened before she even reached it, and she backed away quickly, looking up into the eyes of a young woman. All she could see were the eyes- her face was obscured by a paper mask that covered her from the bridge of her nose to the bottom fo her chin. It was a frightening image, and Octavia almost tripped over herself trying to get away.  
  
The woman smiled, because the corners of her blue eyes crinkled, but Octavia knew she was still her enemy. “Well,” she said, her voice only a little muffled behind the mask. “I see we’re awake.” She had blonde hair that hung to her shoulders, but it was hard to figure out anything else about her because of that mask.  
  
“Who are you?” Octavia demanded. “Where am I?” Her lip trembled as she wrung her hands nervously together, her eyes darting everywhere but at the woman’s scary covered face. “I want to go home. Where’s my brother?”  
  
“Calm down,” she was told, gently but not exactly kindly. Octavia didn’t move, so the woman said, “I’m Tara. Please, sit down.”  
  
Octavia didn’t see much of a choice, so she returned to the bed and sat down, her fingers curling together so tightly that she thought she’d snap them off. Again she asked, “Where’s my brother?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Tara answered her, her voice clipped, making some notations on the tablet she was holding. “I'm here to finalise your intake.”  
  
“Intake?” Octavia repeated, confused. “What is that?”  
  
“You’ve never seen a doctor before, is that correct?” Tara asked, ignoring her question.  
  
“I’ve never been outside my quarters until today,” she answered, still trembling, but trying not to. She knew doctors did things- poked and prodded and touched and hurt. “I’m not sick,” she said, trying to make her voice brave, trying to will this woman to leave.  
  
“And you’re lucky not to be,” Tara answered, not seeming to notice her tone. “This is for your protection,” she added, touching the crinkling paper mask.  
  
Octavia didn’t believe her. She was sure the mask was to hide something.  
  
Tara went on, “We have a few things that need doing before intake- things everyone else has had throughout their lives, at their regular check-ups. Okay?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?” Octavia growled, clenching her fists, still trying to replace her fear with anger, but succeeding only a little.  
  
Tara gathered a few things up on a trolley and wheeled it over to the bedside. Octavia cast her eyes over it nervously, not liking the look of anything on that tray. “Okay,” Tara said. “Let’s start with your physical.”  
  
Octavia was a bit unnerved by the feeling of Tara’s latex gloves on her skin. She didn’t like the way the woman pressed her fingers against her neck, the way she looked into her ears, eyes, and throat with a light, and she was uncomfortable with the way she held the stethoscope onto her back and chest, asking her to take deep breaths. The machine she inflated around her wrist was weird, though the mysterious numbers it displayed seemed to make Tara happy. Another small machine was placed under her tongue, the numbers from that noted as well. The whole time she was being touched and watched, Octavia felt invisible. It was an odd feeling, awful and sickening.  
  
When Tara asked her to lay down she did, but she started to tense when the woman began prodding her belly, and then she stiffened further as she began gently hitting various areas on her legs and arms with a small instrument, which felt strange and deeply uncomfortable. When she reached for her chest, Octavia smacked her hands away. “What the hell are you _doing?”  
  
_ Tara paused. “That’s part of the normal exam, but maybe we’ll leave that for now,” she said. “Let’s get the pelvic over with.”  
  
It was like she was speaking a different language. But Octavia figured the right answer was “No,” and she said it with as much conviction as she could manage.  
  
“Are you sexually active?” Tara asked her. When Octavia just stared at her and said nothing, she clarified, “Have you ever had intercourse with anyone? Sex?”  
  
“I’ve never been outside my quarters until today,” Octavia told her again, wondering whether she was an idiot or just depraved. What was she trying to ask? What did she think? Octavia wasn’t going to tell her anything about her and Bellamy, the kiss they’d shared on her thirteenth birthday or anything she’d thought about him since then. She wasn’t going to tell this woman anything at all about _anything._ She was clearly out to get her, and Octavia knew she had to be careful. _  
  
_ Tara wisely dropped the subject. “We’ll circle back to that,” she said, rolling up Octavia’s sleeve and tying a strap tightly around her arm, just above her elbow. “For now, I need to take some blood.”  
  
_“What?”_ Octavia asked, yanking her arm away, feeling fear rise up in her chest again. “No way.”  
  
“I need to,” Tara said again, firmly, reaching for her arm. “We have to make sure you’re healthy before we put you with others.”  
  
_“What_ others?”  
  
“In the SkyBox,” she explained, an edge of impatience entering her voice.  
  
Octavia swallowed, starting to lose her grip, fear rapidly replacing her bravery. “Where’s my brother?” she asked, her lip trembling. _“Please.”  
  
_ “Put your arm back down,” Tara answered curtly. “Please.”  
  
The tears snaking down her cheeks, Octavia let her arm go limp. She didn't know what else to do, how to fight this. So instead she tried to pretend it wasn't happening, though she still heard herself let out a cry and then sobs as she felt pain erupt in her arm. But when she tried to pull away, Tara just held her more tightly. She looked down and saw dark red blood filling a tube attached to her arm, a silver needle disappearing inside her skin. Then Tara pulled off the tube and put on another, which also filled. There were more tubes on the trolley.  
  
Octavia cried heavily, begging her to stop, trying desperately to get her arm away, feeling like she might vomit or pass out, but she was ignored. When Tara finally pulled the needle out and let go of her, she curled into herself, letting her arm bleed onto the sheet, ignoring the request that she press something against the puncture site.  
  
“I’m sorry that was hard,” Tara said quietly, after a little while. “But we’re not finished yet.”  
  
“Please, I need my brother,” Octavia begged her. “Can’t you just get him?”  
  
Suddenly she felt a stab of fear- was Bellamy dead? Or was he in jail, waiting to be floated with their mother? He _was_ an adult, and he _had_ broken the law… hadn’t he?  
  
“Just hold still,” Tara said, sliding another needle into Octavia’s opposite arm, into her shoulder, making her jump in surprise, her head jerking around to see what she was doing. This time the needle didn’t take anything out, but put something _in,_ which was even more frightening.  
  
“What _is_ that?” she demanded, the words muddled through thick tears.  
  
“Immunisations,” the woman answered her, her voice just a bit more gentle. “They protect against diseases.” She picked up another needle.  
  
“But I don’t _have_ any diseases,” Octavia sobbed, trying to get away from her, trying desperately to escape, but again the woman held her arm down, stabbing another needle into it. Her whole body was tense, making the pain worse, making her cry even harder.  
  
She felt like her body wasn’t hers anymore, like this woman could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop it. She wanted her mother, wanted Bellamy, wanted to disappear, but none of that could happen. She was trapped here in this room and she didn’t even know where she was.  
  
“Until these take effect,” Tara said, from somewhere far away. “You’ll be in isolation.”  
  
Octavia’s heart jolted and then flicked faster with panic as those words sank in. She gulped a little, _“Alone?”  
  
_ “You’ll still need a pelvic exam,” Tara answered, again ignoring her question. “And a contraceptive implant. Just take some deep breaths- you can have a minute while I get a few things ready.” She said it as though she was doing Octavia some kind of big favour.  
  
When Tara stepped out of the room again, Octavia stayed curled into herself, crying softly. Was she an orphan? Did she still have a brother? Were Bellamy and Aurora both dead? How many more horrible things would this woman do to her? And would there be more horrible things where she was going next? Bellamy had said he’d see her soon, but _how?_ And how long would she be isolated? What would happen to her there? Where _was_ there, even? How would she ever survive, all by herself? What if they forgot about her, forgot to open the door, and she died, all alone in the dark, starving and cold and afraid? Who would ever know she existed?  
  
When Tara came back in the room, Octavia was almost sick with fear, her whole body trembling, her tears soaking the pillow beneath her head. But she was momentarily distracted by what sounded like an argument.  
  
“-thought guards would help keep her compliant,” she recognised Tara’s voice, a defensive tone beneath the words.  
  
“You thought that having them hold down a fifteen-year-old girl who’s terrified and seeing all this for the first time would _help?”_ another voice asked, the tone clipped with anger.  
  
Octavia looked up and saw a new woman in an identical facemask standing next to Tara, her eyebrows knitted together as she said, “You shouldn’t have been doing _anything_ to her without my direct authorisation.” She was a little older than Tara, her skin a few shades darker than Bellamy's, her thick brown hair done up in a ponytail.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Tara said stiffly. “I was told to process her like any other inmate. I didn’t know she was under your care.”  
  
The older woman shook her head. “Anyone with any sense would know she should be,” she muttered. “Now leave us alone.”  
  
“I’m not finished,” Tara protested, but a sharp look from the other woman sent her scurrying from the room.  
  
Octavia scrambled upward as the new woman approached her, and she watched warily as she raised her hands slowly, palms facing Octavia. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, her voice gentle.  
  
“Don’t touch me,” Octavia warned, curling her fingers together, squaring her shoulders, preparing for a fight.  
  
The woman shook her head and said softly, “I won’t.” Her dark brown eyes were kind, but Octavia knew she was still her enemy.  
  
“I want my brother,” she tried.  
  
“I know, but right now we need to focus on you,” the woman said gently. “My name is Doctor Maria Santos. I’m here to help you.”  
  
Immediately Octavia shook her head. “No more doctors.” She hugged her arms around herself, protecting the insides of her elbows, her shoulders.  
  
“I’m sorry all that happened,” the woman said, and she sounded sincere. “I stopped it as soon as I realised what was going on.”  
  
“What did you mean when you said I was under your care?” Octavia asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.  
  
“We’ll talk about that,” Santos assured her. “But not until tomorrow. Today I think you’ve been through enough.”  
  
“But what about Bellamy?” Octavia asked, her voice small.  
  
“He’s okay,” the doctor said gently.  
  
For the first time since all this happened, Octavia felt a flicker of hope in her heart.  
  
Gently the woman said, “Why don’t I take you to your room so you can have something to eat and go to sleep? Things will look different after you’ve had a rest.”  
  
Octavia barely heard the words, but she was exhausted from crying, from anxiety and fear, so she barely registered that she got off the bed, followed Santos down too many corridors to count, and then finally stepped into another small room, where a tray of food waited for her. Santos promised to be back in the morning, and then Octavia was locked inside.  
  
This room at least had a bed that was somewhat tucked into the wall, but otherwise there was nothing, save one exception- a window, small but set high in the ceiling, but a _window,_ one that could see outside this world, into the beauty of space. More than she had ever had before. She drew in a deep breath when she saw it.  
  
Ignoring the food, instead Octavia curled herself into the bed, looking up at the ceiling, seeing outside for the second time in her life. She pulled in long, deep breaths, trying to stay as calm as anyone could in a situation like this, her eyes on the blue glow of the Earth, trying to use it to keep her panic at bay.  
  
Slowly her body relaxed, but then her mind woke up. Octavia’s heart went cold as this knowledge took hold: her mother must already be dead. Aurora was gone- she would never hold her again, or stroke her hair, or whisper stories into her ears. And the other part of that knowledge was this: her mother had died for her _._ _Because_ of her.  
  
But not Bellamy- _he_ wasn’t dead. The doctor had said he was okay- alive. And she had to believe that he would, as he’d told her before she was ripped from his arms, see her again soon. She hugged herself tightly, whispering quietly, over and over, “I’m not afraid. I still have Bellamy. I’m not afraid. I still have Bellamy. I’m not afraid…”  
  
Soon she’d convinced herself of this fact: her brother had never broken a promise to her in his life. There was no way he’d start today.


	49. 49- Bellamy

The time in the room with Shumway, where he begged and begged for some kind of understanding- of _humanity-_ was indescribable. The sound of his sister’s voice, her begging him to run, to fix this when he knew they couldn’t do either- it was beyond torture. All he’d ever wanted was to rescue her, to keep her safe from anything bad, and now the worst thing either of them could imagine was happening all around them. He couldn’t stop it. In fact, he’d _caused_ it.  
  
The guilt was overwhelming. The fear, also. He felt like he was being crushed under the weight of all his sins, and all the things he could never undo.  
  
And there was Octavia- innocent, sheltered, and so, so precious. She was going somewhere he couldn’t follow, and who would look out for her there, protect her? What could happen to her when he wasn’t there? He felt sick at the thought, at all of this- all that his recklessness and naivety had created. If only he could take it back…  
  
But he couldn’t, and after that first mistake it all tumbled out of his control so fast, until he found himself in a room, with a door he couldn’t open standing between him and his sister, hearing her screams echoing down the corridor outside, growing fainter and fainter until finally they went quiet.  
  
He wanted to fix this. He wanted to go back in time and stop himself, make this right again, wake up from the nightmare that was now his life. He wanted to die.  
  
Instead he looked at Shumway and said, flat and broken, “Now what?”  
  
“Now you’re under arrest,” Shumway answered him, calm and unreadable.  
  
So he would die. It seemed fitting. His only regret was that Octavia, in a little more than two years from now, would emerge from the SkyBox more alone than she had ever been. And it would be all his fault. She’d been his responsibility, he was supposed to take care of her with everything he had, and instead he’d ruined her life- ruined _everything._  
  
He didn’t fight them when they slapped cuffs on his hands. He didn’t fight them as they took him from the room and pulled him down the hallway. The only act of defiance- however small- was when he craned his neck to look for his sister. But she was gone, dragged off to God knew where, for what purpose he shuddered to think. And he couldn’t go with her.  
  
The thought bolstered his efforts once more and he said, weakly, “Please… my sister doesn’t know anything about anything. Let me stay with her. At least until she’s in the SkyBox. It’ll make things easier for you.”  
  
“She’s no longer your concern,” Shumway answered shortly.  
  
Bellamy felt a swell of fury. How could he _say_ that- that Octavia was no longer his concern? She would _always_ be his concern, her safety _always_ his priority. She was his _sister,_ not some girl he could just leave behind and forget about now that this was done. He’d raised her from the moment she was born and he had loved her with all that he had.  
  
Then he realised, Shumway _couldn’t_ understand. No one could. What he and Octavia had was as unique as it was illegal. Shumway would never understand.  
  
He was shuffled into a small room and left there, locked in, for over an hour. The wait drove him mad, the darkness of imagining all that might be happening, threatening to drive him insane. He focused on the act of doing nothing- of sitting stiffly in the chair they’d provided. Of breathing, in and out. If he did that and nothing more, he couldn’t make anything worse than it already was.  
  
Finally, the door opened. Shumway was standing there, and so was his mother.  
  
“Bellamy,” Aurora said, the word like a rush of breath he couldn’t decode.  
  
“You’ve got ten minutes until the council will be ready to deal with both of you,” Shumway told them, closing the door and leaving them alone.  
  
He sat there wretchedly, unable to look at her, as his mother broke into a brisk walk and took quick steps across the room to where he was sitting. Hastily he pulled to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his hurry.  
  
He managed to stand just in time for her to slap him squarely across the face. His cheek burned, but he didn’t know whether it was more from the sting of her palm or his own disgrace.  
  
Her eyes were practically on fire as she stared at him, and she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe the fact that this was happening, that they were standing here. With an undertone of desperation she exclaimed, “Bellamy! What were you _thinking?”_ Tears welled in her eyes and then spilled over as she stared at him, her expression a mixture of horror, dismay, fear, anger, and disappointment. “How could you have been so stupid- so _reckless?_ You’ve destroyed us, and for what? A _dance?”_ She shook her head. “Was that worth my death? You and your _sister’s_ deaths, if they decide to float you too?”  
  
Instantly he felt his face collapse, his shoulders sagging, and his knees going weak, as she voiced all the things he’d been telling himself, alone in this room for the last hour. He’d killed his mother, maybe himself, possibly his sister, and definitely their family. And for what? But the accusations were so much worse from her lips.  
  
He grabbed for the chair, doubling over it a little, trying not to vomit, feeling tears burning his eyes and in the back of his throat. But if he thought his mother would offer him any comfort, to take back her harsh words, he was wrong. Instead she grabbed his shoulders, giving him a small shake. He was bigger and taller than she was, but the gesture made him feel like a little boy again, admonished and rebuked. All he wanted was to curl into her arms and sob, to whisper apologies into her ears until she loved him again. The tears slid down his cheeks but he didn’t dare let himself make a sound.  
  
He watched his mother brush her own tears away with the backs of her hands and then pull in a long breath, as though she was trying to pull strength from the metal floor with her lungs. “Bellamy,” she said, her voice firm. “Stand up straight.”  
  
With great difficulty, he did. “Mom-”  
  
“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaking for the first time. “There’s no time.”  
  
He shook his head. “Mom,” he tried again, the lump in his throat difficult to talk through. “I’m sor-”  
  
_“No,_ Bellamy,” she cut him off again, tightly, her voice cracking just once before it went firm again. “There’s no time.” For the first time she smiled, hard through her tears, and her smile was so like Octavia’s that he wanted to weep. She put her hands on his cheeks, patted them firmly, as though she could erase the sting of her slap and the bite of her words with that singular gesture.  
  
Firmly she went on, “Okay. Listen to me. Your sister won’t be floated. In two years, she’ll get a review and they’ll release her- even this council wouldn’t kill someone just for being born. Every month the SkyBox has a visitor’s day, and every month you’re going to be there- a touchstone for both of you to hold onto. And every month, you’re going to remind her who she is and what she’s coming home to.” He watched her keep that forced smile in place, watched how it didn’t quite meet her eyes, and he knew he’d done that too. “It’s two years, Bellamy,” she told him. “Two years in exchange for a lifetime of freedom, because that’s what’s going to happen. After her review, when she’s released, she’ll be like anyone else on the Ark. Documented. Neither of you will have to hide anymore. You can live properly- you _and_ your sister.”  
  
With a jolt, he realised it was true. A tiny part of his heart rejoiced, but he squashed that almost immediately. Two _years._ How would she survive? How would _he_ survive?  
  
“Please, Mom,” he whispered, his voice almost begging as he reached up, covering her hands with his where they still held his cheeks. Gently he coaxed them down from his face, gave them a squeeze, held onto them.  
  
His mother’s hands were always slightly cool. He could remember as a very small child, before Octavia, the way she would lay them on his skin when he was sick. They were better than any medicine.  
  
He looked into her eyes, so alive. Would she die quickly? Did it hurt, being sucked into space? Would she have time to think, to feel- to suffer? Would her lungs feel as though they were exploding, or burning, or flooded with ice? How far would her body travel before it hit the atmosphere and burned up? What if it didn’t?  
  
Again he tried, “Mom, I'm-”  
  
But firmly she said, for a third time, “There’s no _time,_ Bellamy. What’s done is done. Now you do what you have to. I can’t help you anymore.”  
  
It wasn’t what he wanted- not even close. He didn’t expect her to forgive him, but even still he craved it. But at the very least, he wanted her to love him. He wanted her to tell him it would be okay, even though it wouldn’t. He didn’t want this unceremonious kick from the nest and a speech of hopes he could barely cling to. He wanted his mother’s arms and a promise of redemption. He wanted her to think of some magic solution that would make what he’d done only a small misstep, instead of the apocalypse of their family.  
  
Bellamy realised that he wanted from her what Octavia had wanted from him- to fix this. All his life she had been the strongest person in their family, and now she was helpless. He had condemned her to die, and all she could do was instruct him on how to keep living.  
  
“The council won’t _want_ to float you,” she told him next. “Tell them I forced you. Tell them this was all you knew, that I made the decision to keep her and made you raise her with me. Tell them how scared you were of being caught, how much I drilled it into you, into your sister, to never let anyone find her. Tell them how strict I could be, how irrational. Tell them how you never had any fun, how much it hurt you to live a double life, that you were a victim of my decision. Tell them the _truth,_ Bellamy.” She gave him a wavering smile and added softly, “It really will set you free.”  
  
He was bowled over by it- the insight she had into what he’d gone through, when he’d always assumed she’d never realised.  
  
But still, this wasn’t how he wanted to spend their last moments. He didn’t want to talk survival strategy, as they had for the last sixteen years of his life. He wanted the mother who’d existed before Octavia, the one who laughed with him and played silly games and told him stories, who’d made the world fun and didn’t place it squarely on his shoulders like the burden it was.  
  
He wanted her to be his _mother_ again- just that and nothing more. With Octavia’s birth they had morphed into some kind of co-parenting team that he was much too young for yet still somehow managed. But now, when faced with death- _her_ death for sure, and maybe his own- all he wanted was for her to pull her into his arms and tell him everything would be okay. Even if they both knew it wouldn’t.  
  
“Mom,” he whispered, but he said nothing else, he just breathed the sound of that most sacred name that had been his first word and Octavia’s. He felt the tears sliding down his cheeks again but he had no will to stop them, no resolve left to be strong for her and pretend that this was not the end of everything.  
  
Finally, Aurora’s face gentled and her hands swept backward over his face, into his hair and then down, gripping his shoulders. She pulled him close to her and held him against her. He leaned down slightly so he could be more enveloped in her arms, and he clung to her tightly, the sobs finally coming, low and strangled as if from some deep well inside him. His mother’s hands rubbed his back and held him tight, slid through his hair and then tenderly brushed the tears from his cheeks as she looked into his eyes.  
  
Softly she murmured, “My brave boy. Oh, my good boy. I’m so sorry.”  
  
He’d been trying so desperately to apologise to _her,_ and now she was the one to utter the words. He shook his head, sucking in a breath, trying not to choke on his grief, trying to blink away the tears that interfered with this last look at her face. _“I’m_ sorry,” he choked out, shaking his head, burying his face in her hair, his words tripping over themselves through his sobs. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so, _so_ sorry… I never meant for this to happen. Mom, please…”  
  
“Shshsh,” she murmured, one hand in his hair again, the other clutching firmly around his back. “I’ve got you. You're okay.” She was echoing the words he’d said so many times to Octavia, and for the first time he realised where he’d gotten them- that way of speaking, those certain phrases. The mother who’d once had time to say those things to him was still in there. He was seeing her now, at the end of their life together, as he had seen her at the beginning when she had been his mother and no one else’s. It was terribly bittersweet.  
  
Finally she pulled back, her face at once firm in her resolve and also gentle with her love. “Don’t carry this,” she told him the impossible. “Go away from this with your head up and just keep going. Do it for your sister.”  
  
He pulled in a long breath, forced that oxygen into his chest, and nodded solemnly, as he had for sixteen years. She nodded back to him, her expression firm. Once again they were a team, united in their duty. Anything for Octavia.  
  
Before either of them could say anything else, the door opened and Shumway was standing there, his dark eyes unreadable. He only gave them a nod and said, “It’s time.”  
  
“Remember what I told you,” Aurora hissed as they were led down the corridor. It was only the two of them and Shumway, but neither of them made a move to run, even in desperation. Where would they go? It wouldn’t even matter.  
  
Bellamy’s body was cold. His hands were sweating. He felt like crying more but his eyes were dry now, and every step felt like he was trudging toward the end of the world. The dread in his heart was like a lead weight.  
  
Inside the room, there was a long, rectangular table with seven chairs, although two of them were empty. Shumway stood by the door, not invited to sit but not asked to leave either. Bellamy and Aurora stood opposite the table, facing the row of five, one of whom was Chancellor Jaha. Bellamy felt intimidated, humiliated, knowing that in another world he would have be standing in front of this man for the first time at his graduation from cadets, when he became a guard. But now that was never going to happen. That whole life he’d known, the future and the plans- it was all over.  
  
Instead Jaha said to them, “You’ve both been brought here on serious charges, and our vote will decide both of your futures. One of the councillors has had to recuse herself due to a potential conflict of interest, and another is indisposed, but the remaining four will vote. In the case of a tie, I will be the deciding voice.”  
  
Jaha waited a moment, and then when neither of them spoke he said, “Aurora Blake.” Bellamy cringed without meaning to, reacting to the way the Chancellor pronounced his mother’s name, like she was a bad person. He watched Aurora’s chin raise, watched her spine straighten, and then Jaha went on, “You’ve been accused of the crime of having a second child. How do you plead?”  
  
“Guilty,” she answered, her voice clear.  
  
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked her next.  
  
“For myself, no,” Aurora answered. “But for my son-”  
  
One of the male councillors cut her off, “Your son will have a chance to speak for himself.”  
  
But Jaha held up a hand. “Let her finish, Cole.”  
  
“Thank you, Chancellor,” she said, and Bellamy marvelled at the respect with which she spoke to this man who he knew she loathed so much. “I take full responsibility for my daughter’s existence. It was my choice and mine alone. But I don’t regret it, and I won’t apologise for it.”  
  
A few backs stiffened in their chairs, but whether his mother noticed them or not, she continued anyway, “What I _do_ regret is forcing my six-year-old to be an accomplice in my crime. This man standing here with me was not a man when his sister came into this world, when I asked him to hide her and keep her secret. I’d ask that you consider that when deciding our punishments.”  
  
“Your punishment doesn’t require a vote,” the same man who’d interrupted her earlier, Cole, now informed her, his tone slightly scathing. “The law is clear, and you’ve admitted guilt. You’ll be floated.”  
  
Now it was Bellamy’s back that stiffened, hardening like ice as he saw all the councillor’s heads nod their agreement. He wanted to fight for her, _beg_ for her, speak for her as she’d just spoken for him, but how could he? What they’d said was true. She was guilty. Any hope for leniency, for compassion, sank into the pit of his stomach like a stone.  
  
All eyes turned to him. He straightened, trying to be brave. What would they say? What would they do? He wanted his mother to live, but she wouldn’t- couldn’t. But could he? Would they let him live so his sister wouldn’t come out of the SkyBox an orphan, abandoned and alone?  
  
“Your crime is less straightforward,” Jaha told him. “The closest we could come up with is failure to report a serious offense.”  
  
“Which is still a floatable crime in itself,” one of the councillors volunteered, which was unnecessary because Bellamy knew as well as any of them that on the Ark, _all_ crimes were floatable offenses.  
  
“Fuji’s right,” Cole insisted. “We don’t have to vote.”  
  
“But what she said is still true,” one of the other councillor’s spoke up, her forehead creasing. Her dark eyes were kind as they turned to Bellamy, and he clung to them like a lifeline.  
  
“But he’s not a child _now,”_ Cole said. “Come on Kaplan, don’t let them manipulate you. He’s as guilty as she is.”  
  
Bellamy’s jaw tensed. “What exactly did you expect me to do?” he demanded, glaring at the man. “Look after her from the day she was born and then one day just hand her over to you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Kaplan said, her voice gentle. “She’s family and you love her. We understand that. But the matter of the law-”  
  
“The matter of the law isn’t made for this situation,” Bellamy interrupted. “With all due respect, I’ve been a cadet for years now, and I know the law well. My sister has been my responsibility since the day she was born, and turning her over to you at any point in the last sixteen years would have gone against everything my mother raised me to be. If I have to die for her, then I will, just like my mother will. But we don’t want to. We want to keep living, so we can be here when she gets out of the SkyBox in two years. Until then, we’ll be productive members of this society, and we’ll accept any punishment you deem as fair. Just give us a chance. Give my sister a chance. Don’t take away the only two people she’s ever known.”  
  
Jaha pulled in a long breath and let it out slowly, leaning back in his chair a little, scrutinising Bellamy carefully. But he said nothing.  
  
Kaplan said gently, “Your mother’s punishment is decided. I’m sorry. But I move that your case is unique, and deserves a vote.”  
  
The second female councillor said, “I second.”  
  
Cole rolled his eyes. “The law is _clear.”_  
  
“And yet there are mitigating circumstances,” Kaplan protested. “He’s like that addict who we opted to review because her father first gave her drugs when she was still underage.”  
  
“And we voted to float her anyway,” Cole muttered, but waved a hand in annoyance at Bellamy. “Fine, we’ll review.”  
  
Jaha stood. “Until tomorrow, you’ll be held, and then you’ll hear our decision,” he told Bellamy. Looking to Aurora he added, “In the meantime, your punishment will be carried out swiftly.” He asked Bellamy, “Would you like to attend?”  
  
He was taken aback by the question, not having expected the offer, two sides of himself at war over whether he wanted to be there. Could he witness that? Could he not?  
  
But before he could answer, Aurora said firmly, “No.”  
  
Instantly, he wanted to attend. He looked at her quickly, protesting, “Mom-”  
  
“No, Bellamy,” she said, still firm.  
  
He gave her a look that was full of dismay, of pain. “But why?”  
  
His mother reached out, curled her fingers over his cheek. “Because this is _my_ choice,” she said with a bit more gentleness, her voice shaking, her eyes full of tears. _“Not_ yours. This is goodbye now, Bellamy. I won’t have you watch me die.”  
  
He could barely see through his tears, but he blinked them back and seized her in his arms, hugging her tightly, banishing the prying eyes of their audience through sheer force of will. “I’ll look after her,” he promised his mother, whispering it into her ear like a prayer. “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”  
  
Aurora held him tightly, nodding into his shoulder, and he could hear the soft choking sounds she made as she forced back her tears. “I know you will. Tell her I love her.” Her voice wavered for a moment, and then more softly she said, “You’ll always be my son. Be good. Be you. _Don’t_ carry this.”  
  
And then she was gone, and he was taken to a cell to wait. He counted the seconds, marked by each one of his breaths. He tried to focus only on that- the in, the out. He tried not to imagine the moment when his mother’s breath stopped, the moment she was no longer on the Ark, but floating somewhere in space, cold and stiff and still. Gone.  
  
He tried to memorise everything she’d said, every look on her face and the gesture of her hands as she’d reached for him. He tried to do as she’d said, tried not to carry it, but when enough time had passed that he was certain she had to be dead, he felt that crushing burden press onto his shoulders all at once, like a mountain falling down on his world.


	50. 50- Octavia

Isolation was both familiar and unfamiliar all at once. It was a tiny room in which she was locked, trapped, unable to leave. But it was also a place where she was truly alone, where there was no long waiting for her mother and brother to come through the door, but only the cold, frightening knowledge that they never would.  
  
Octavia stayed on the bed most of the time, staring at the Earth and the moon, and she didn’t touch any of the food that was brought to her. Why bother? Everything seemed pointless, futile. Her mother was dead, her brother was who knew where, and she was alone and facing a life she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.  
  
When the door swung open, she didn’t even turn her head. She ignored the guards who ignored her and swapped one full food tray for another, curling into herself and making herself small, not wanting to draw their attention. In many ways she still felt like a little girl, a child holding her breath, afraid of the monsters that were coming to take her away.  
  
Only this _was_ ‘away.’ She was here, and the monster-guards were all that surrounded her.  
  
A throat cleared, and grudgingly Octavia turned her head. It wasn’t a guard at all, but the woman from yesterday, the second one who’d called herself Maria Santos- who’d called herself a friend.  
  
Octavia pressed her face into the pillow and said, her voice muffled, “Go away.” She didn’t care if the woman could understand her or not.  
  
“Octavia,” Santos said gently, crossing the room to the bed. Octavia half-expected her to sit down, and tensed in anticipation of that action, but she didn’t. “Can we talk?”  
  
“I don’t want to talk to you if you’re going to wear that damn mask,” Octavia growled, her face hot from the pillow, but she didn’t move. She wasn’t going to give this woman the satisfaction of looking- not when she couldn’t even see her properly.  
  
“It’s for your protection,” Santos said gently.  
  
Octavia’s fist clenched, her lip curling up in anger. “If you want to _protect_ me, send me home to my brother. Otherwise you can go to hell.”  
  
There was a pause, and then the sound of Santos sitting down. Octavia ventured a peek. The woman was now seated on the floor, cross-legged, and seemed to be waiting with endless patience. When she saw Octavia’s eyes she smiled, so Octavia wrenched her gaze away, turning over onto her side and facing the wall.  
  
“I’ll take the mask off if you want,” Santos said, her voice still carrying that gentle tone. “I just want to be careful with you. Your immune system-”  
  
“Save it,” Octavia cut her off. “I’ve been sick before and it’s fine- I pull through. Take off the mask or get out.”  
  
After a moment Santos said, “It’s off.” Octavia looked, and it was.  
  
Feeling a swell of annoyance that she now had to talk to the woman, she bolted upright on the bed, sitting on the edge, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don’t like doctors," she snapped, glaring at her. Santos wasn’t a big woman by any means, and Octavia felt even bigger sitting up on the bed with her on the floor. But even that didn’t fully put her at ease.  
  
“I promise I won’t ever bring a needle anywhere near you,” Santos said gently. “I’m not that kind of doctor anyway- I’m a psychiatrist.”  
  
Octavia wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar word, but she wouldn’t give Santos any power by asking her what it was.  
  
Infuriatingly, Santos seemed to guess at her thoughts and explained, “Think of it like this- when people get hurt or injured, they go to a doctor to get healed, right? A psychiatrist is like that too, but instead of healing broken bones and cuts, we heal hearts and minds.”  
  
Octavia took that in, and then she narrowed her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my heart or my mind.”  
  
Santos smiled. “You’re right, there’s nothing _wrong,”_ she agreed. “But just because something isn’t totally broken, doesn’t mean it can’t be helped.”  
  
“You want to help me? Send me back. I want to go _home.”  
  
_ Then Santos said something she didn’t expect. "You’re in luck. That's kind of my job in here, really- to get you home."  
  
The woman had a kind face now that she could see it properly, but Octavia refused to like her. Instead she gave her a sceptical look and said, "Pretty easy job. Just take me back right now. You know where I live." Unlike Octavia herself.  
  
With a soft smile, the older woman shook her head. "I'm afraid it's not quite that simple."  
  
"You _just_ said your job is to get me home," Octavia retorted. "So open the door and send me back."  
  
"I don't have that kind of power."  
  
"Then who does?" Octavia demanded.  
  
"The council. And believe me, there's no way you'll get a pardon without some serious work first."  
  
"A pardon," Octavia repeated, angry. "A pardon for _what?_ Being _born?"  
  
_ Santos was silent for a moment and then, once again, she said something that surprised her. "You're right."  
  
But her eyes narrowed, waiting for her to go on. She wasn't going to trust this woman, no matter how nice she seemed.  
  
Santos continued, "Your presence here is unique because you haven't committed any crime yourself. It's partly why you're under my care. But just because you aren't a criminal doesn't mean there aren't serious things we need to address."  
  
"Then let me go and I'll come to see you every day," Octavia said, trying to reason with her. "We can talk all you want, just send me back to my brother in between."  
  
Again there was a short silence, and then Santos said, "I'm actually of the opinion that a controlled environment will help you more in the long run."  
  
Octavia's lip curled. "My whole _life_ has been a controlled environment. I'm done with that."  
  
"A poor choice of words, maybe," Santos allowed, giving her a small smile. "I was trying to be tactful, but maybe you’d prefer bluntness?"  
  
Octavia shrugged, not knowing how exactly to respond to that.  
  
Then Santos went on, "So, to be blunt, I think some time away from your brother will do you both some good- especially you."  
  
It felt like a punch in the stomach the realisation that this woman _wanted_ to keep them apart. For a moment Octavia couldn’t even speak, and then finally she demanded, "What? _Why?"  
  
_ But Santos countered with a question of her own. "Do you know what codependence means?"  
  
Octavia wanted to lie and say that she did, wanted this woman to know she didn't have any kind of upper hand here, but she suspected that would backfire so she just shook her head and bit out, "No."  
  
"Codependence is one way of having a relationship," Santos explained, seemingly oblivious to Octavia’s tone. "Usually one person is always rescuing the other, or taking care of the other. The person being rescued never learns to be self-sufficient, and the rescuer doesn’t know how to function outside that role. You end up depending on each other far too much. In Bellamy’s case, he depends on you for his sense of self-worth, almost like he's addicted to taking care of you- his whole life revolves around it. And you depend on him for everything, all your needs- physical _and_ emotional. Both of you get trapped in it."  
  
Octavia listened to everything she said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable because, technically, it was all true- until that last part, which was completely unfair. "But I _was_ trapped," she reminded her. "And so was Bellamy. He _did_ have to look after everything. He _and_ our mother."  
  
"I know," Santos assured her. "I'm not saying it's your fault- not his, and certainly not yours. But it's not what I'd call a healthy relationship either."  
  
Shaking her head, Octavia protested, "But of _course_ he takes care of me. Wouldn't you do the same thing? If he didn't look after me like he did, all of this would have happened a long time ago. He _had_ to."  
  
"And creating that situation was your mother's decision," Santos said, very gently. "She was codependent too, and she passed those behaviours on to her children because of the situation _she_ created, and because she was your only role model- especially for you, but even for your brother. I wish I- or someone like me- could have helped her too. But what I _can_ do is help you, now. It won't be easy, but we'll get through it together, and when you get out of here then you'll be better off, believe me."  
  
But Octavia didn't believe her, and she didn't understand either. "What are you saying?" she asked. "You want me to forget about my brother? You want to brainwash me so I don't love him anymore?"  
  
"No no," Santos said quickly. "No, that's not it at all. I'm glad you have someone you love, and someone who loves you, to go back to after this. A lot of the kids in here, they don't have anything even close to that."  
  
"So what, then?" Octavia demanded.  
  
Santos was silent for a moment, seeming to consider her words carefully. Then she said, "Up to now, Bellamy has been your brother, yes, but he's also been your father, your best friend, your protector, your teacher, your provider..." She trailed off, then asked delicately, "Did I miss anything?"  
  
Octavia just stared at her, keeping her own face like a stone. Giving her nothing.  
  
Santos went on, "Now, you're the only sibling pair I've ever met, so I don't pretend to be an expert, but some of those roles are circumstantial, not natural- don't you think?"  
  
With a shrug, Octavia glanced away, not meeting the woman's eyes because she refused to show her that she had a point.  
  
"I don't want to take the specialness of your relationship with Bellamy away from you," Santos said gently, drawing Octavia's gaze grudgingly back. Her dark eyes were still kind as she went on, "What I'd like to do is help you explore it in a new light. That's all. Because by the time you go home, you will have made all kinds of new relationships- with me, with the other kids here, with the guards and the teachers and everyone else."  
  
That felt completely exhausting to Octavia- exhausting and terrifying. How was she ever going to bring herself to even _look_ at all those different people, let alone interact with them? And all alone, without Bellamy beside her? _How?  
  
_ "Hey," Santos said gently, leaning forward and touching Octavia's boot with her fingertips. She pulled back when the gesture made Octavia jump. She was still not used to being visible to others, let alone touchable. Sympathetically Santos went on, "I know you're afraid. But-"  
  
"-but fear is a demon," Octavia finished for her, for once wanting to show her that she didn't know _everything._ Firmly she added, "I'm not afraid." Even though she was terrified.  
  
The woman's frown confused her. "Octavia," she said gently, her own name sounding so weird on a stranger's lips. “Fear is just a emotion like any other. It's okay to feel it. And if you don't, you might find it just gets bigger and bigger."  
  
Octavia pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She closed her eyes and imagined what she had a thousand times- fear as a huge monster, and herself as a brave knight, holding a sword. In her mind's eyes she shoved the sword into the demon's chest, surprising herself with an afterthought of a wish that it was Santos's heart she could stab.  
  
Opening her eyes, she glared at the woman across from her and said, very coldly, "I _hate_ you."  
  
Santos just watched her for a moment, and then she nodded her head. She stood up and said, "I think that's a good place to stop for today." Octavia tracked her movements as she walked to the door, and then Santos gave her a gentle smile that only made her angrier. Calmly the doctor said, "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Once the door was closed, Octavia curled into her bunk, fixed her eyes on the blue orb of the Earth, and sobbed herself to sleep.


	51. 51- Bellamy

It happened quickly, and passed like a blur. He was brought back into the council chamber, told that the vote had gone in his favour, and informed that he would be allowed to live. Pardoned.  
  
He tried to be happy, but he felt nothing. His mother’s body was somewhere outside, in space, floating. These people had pressed the button that put her there.  
  
They told him that he had still committed a serious crime, despite the mitigating circumstances. As punishment, he would be ejected from the guard program and reassigned to sanitation. His rations would be slashed. He would remain in his family’s quarters, but anything ‘inappropriate’ would be taken to the reclamation centre.  
  
They asked him if he had any questions. He mumbled that he did not. Then he was escorted home by the same guards who’d been training him until today.  
  
The walk back to Factory was silent. He felt like he was in a dream, or a nightmare. The guards walked him right to the front door, and Bellamy had to suppress a knee-jerk reaction to stop them from going inside, so they wouldn’t find Octavia.  
  
But there was no point, because Octavia was already found.  
  
Inside, there were other guards. One of them was down on his hands and knees, welding the hole shut. Bellamy felt a surge of panic that he had to bite back- he had to force himself not to react, to remind himself that Octavia wouldn’t need the hole anymore. The other guards were going through their things, piling items into bins.  
  
His cadet uniforms were confiscated. They waited for him to change into plainclothes so they could take the uniform he was wearing now, and then they gathered up his tablets- the one he used to study, and the older one that had been Octavia’s only window to the wider world.  
  
Into the bins went everything that had been in the floor- all the trinkets and toys he’d brought her over the years, including her stuffed alien, the different drawings she’d made for him and their mother growing up, and then the globe necklace he’d bought for her thirteenth birthday.  
  
“Hey,” he protested, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “Not that- that’s hers… she’s going to want it when she gets out.”  
  
One of the guards smirked. “She’s not getting out, Blake.”  
  
“Sure she is,” one of the others spoke up, then laughed. “Out an airlock.”  
  
Bellamy felt the anger boiling up in his chest, and he had to force himself not to react- he couldn’t get himself in trouble again now, when he was already on such shaky ground. He’d be floated for sure.  
  
The first guard rolled his eyes and then looked at Bellamy, shaking his head as he let out an almost disgusted snort. “Hopefully your case blocks any other kid from Factory who’s dumb enough to think he has a chance in the guard.”  
  
The men went back to their task, loading up his mother’s sewing paraphernalia next and then moving into the bathroom, emptying the cabinets and shelves of all evidence that Aurora and Octavia Blake had ever lived here.  
  
They even took the extra chairs from the table, leaving him with only one, and stripped the bedding from the upper bunk, rolling up the mattress. Two of the guards gave him disgusted looks as they moved to the exit with the plastic bins, while the others avoided his gaze as they all filed past him, shutting the door behind them.  
  
In their absence, he was left with only this: a cold room, barren and empty, furnished for one; empty hooks along the clothes rod; an empty cabinet with doors gaping open; a sealed floor; and nothing to remember the unique and exceptional life his family had lived inside those four walls.  
  
Bellamy went to the bottom bunk- Aurora’s bunk, and the one that Octavia had slept in more and more in recent years, both of them far too big to share- and he curled himself into it, inhaling the pillow, smelling his mother’s scent mixed with his sister’s. He realised it was the only thing he had of them now.  
  
He pulled in shaking, stilting breaths, trying not to sob, trying to hold onto what his mother had said- the SkyBox’s monthly Visitor’s Day. He would see Octavia then- just two weeks from now. She wasn’t gone. Their mother was dead, but Octavia was still alive, and she was his responsibility. She needed him.  
  
Bellamy had no idea how long he lay there, not thinking, trying very hard no to feel either. He finally gave in and cried for a while, then fell asleep.  
  
  
  
_“Bell!” Octavia’s shriek jarred him from his sleep. He rolled sideways, almost falling out of the bunk and onto the floor, scrambling quickly to his feet and looking for her. He checked the top bunk- empty. He yanked the door of the bathroom open- also empty. But the fear that had filled her voice drove him forward, checking behind their bench and in their mother’s sewing cabinet- places that didn’t even make sense._  
  
_“O?” he called desperately._  
  
_Again the scream, “Bell!”_  
  
_The floor- it was coming from the floor. Of course that’s where she was- what had he been thinking looking anywhere else?_  
  
_“Shshsh,” he soothed her as he went to the table, pulling it aside. He dropped to his knees. “It’s okay,” he said, sliding his hand into the little gap in the panel._  
  
_He pulled. It didn’t budge. He yanked hard- nothing._  
  
_“Bell!” Octavia’s voice came again, and then she coughed. “I can’t breathe!”_  
  
_His heart went cold. He remembered, belatedly, the guards coming and welding it shut. But she hadn’t been in there the, had she? She was in the SkyBox. Or wait, was he wrong- had he dreamt that? Was she down there this whole time, waiting for the guards to clear out, waiting for it to be safe?_  
  
_“Octavia?” he called out urgently, laying down on his stomach and pressing his eye to the handhold, his heart beating faster in his chest._  
  
_It too was welded shut, no longer a gap through which she could see or hear or breathe._  
  
_“Bell, please!” she screamed. “It’s so dark- I’m scared.”_  
  
_“It’s okay, I’m going to get you out of there,” he promised, trying not to let her hear how panicked he was. He pushed quickly to his feet, looking around for what he could use. Grabbing one of the chairs, he wedged the leg into the handhold and tried to use it as leverage to pry the panel up._  
  
_The chair leg snapped off, clattering to the floor, so he grabbed it and tried again. Nothing- not even the slightest of movements._  
  
_He could hear Octavia coughing, gasping._  
  
_He ran to his mother’s sewing cabinet, trying to find something- anything- that he could use to get that panel open, but it quickly became apparent there was nothing in their quarters that would do the trick._  
  
_“I’m getting help, O, I’ll be right back- just hold on,” he yelled, having to tear himself away from her frightening sounds as he plunged through the front door, into the corridor, and made a beeline for the engineering crew he’d seen working on an adjacent section earlier that day._  
  
_By some miracle, they were still there. He ran to them and saw what he needed- one member of the work crew was using an acetylene torch to cut through a jammed maintenance hatch. Bellamy grabbed it out of his hand, turning on his heel and sprinting down the corridor towards home, ignoring the yells that followed him._  
  
_He shoved through their front door and slammed it behind him, taking a leap onto the upper level and dropping to his knees, sliding the rest of the way to the panel. “Just lay flat, O,” he urged her, switching on the torch and starting to cut._  
  
_He made a hole first, just so the air would rush in, but when he called to her and she didn’t answer he quickly made that hole larger rather than cut carefully around the panel. He shoved his arms inside, ignoring the edges as they burned thick lines across his arms._  
  
_He groped in the darkness for a few tense moments, and then all at once he found her, limp and unresponsive, but he grabbed her under the arms and hauled her upwards, using his skin as a shield so she wouldn’t burn on the twisted metal remnants of the panel as he yanked her through._  
  
_She was still as he laid her on the floor. Still and not breathing- her face pale, lips blue. His stomach churned with terror as he fumbled for her pulse, sliding his fingers against her neck. Her skin was cold._  
  
_“No,” he said, his voice insistent, as though the amount of conviction in his tone could equal the amount of truth in the word. He quickly pinched her nose, pulling her head back as he leaned down, trying to breathe life back into her lips._  
  
_He saw her chest rise and fall, but she still didn’t move. He did it again, with the same effect, and then he pumped her chest. He kept going. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he was yelling at her, pleading with her._  
  
_“Wake up and I’ll do anything.”_  
  
_“Breathe and I’ll give you whatever you want.”_  
  
_“Just don’t die, O, and I promise we’ll get through this together.”_  
  
_“Please, Octavia. Please, please,_ please _don’t leave me alone.”_  
  
  
  
Bellamy jerked upward, screaming. It wasn’t until he’d shoved himself off the bunk, scrambled to the hole, and scraped his fingernails raw trying to pry the panel open, that he fully woke up. He curled his bloody fingers into his palms and then raised his hands, raking those fingers through his hair slowly.  
  
“She’s not there,” he whispered, shaking his head to try to rid himself of the dream. He wondered if he was going crazy. For a moment it was tempting, to fall into that abyss, but he knew he couldn’t do it. Octavia still needed him.  
  
A knock at the door jarred him from his thoughts and he stared at it for a long moment, feeling like he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do. Stand up? Walk across the room? Open the door? That all seemed way too hard.  
  
But he needn’t have worried- the knock came again, and when again he just sat there like a stone, the door pushed open.  
  
It took him a minute for him to arrange the features of the person standing in the doorway into something he could recognise- his mind felt slow, sluggish. He felt like he wasn’t even there, like he was standing just next to himself, and nothing was real. But he looked hard at the figure in the doorway, the gears in his brain turning over slowly- _man. young man. young man I know. blond young man I know. blond young man who’s my friend._ And finally, _Vaughn._  
  
“Holy shit, man,” he breathed, hurrying over, dropping to his knees in front of him. His eyes were full of what Bellamy belatedly recognised as a mixture of horror and compassion, but he closed his own eyes, somehow feeling worse when he saw that look on Vaughn’s face.  
  
“What?” he demanded, his voice a rasp. He opened his eyes again, but he didn’t look at Vaughn- looking just next to him, at the wall right behind his head.  
  
Vaughn seemed surprised by the question. But he recovered himself and said, “I’m so sorry, Bellamy. About your mom. And your… your sister,” his voice stumbled a little over the foreign word. “And cadets.”  
  
Bellamy’s jaw clenched and he pulled in a few deep breaths. “You’re sorry?” he repeated, his voice a bitter whisper.  
  
“I am,” Vaughn agreed. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” He reached for him, trying to wrap him up in a hug even though he was sitting awkwardly.  
  
Bellamy jerked backward, bringing up a hand and giving Vaughn a shove, which clearly surprised the younger man as he was knocked off-balance, falling back onto the floor.  
  
Bellamy stood up, and he felt his fists clench at his sides as he looked down at Vaughn. Quickly his friend got to his feet as well, and his eyes darted back and forth across Bellamy’s face as though trying to figure out what to do.  
  
Tentatively he said, “I’m really sorry.” When Bellamy said nothing he went on, “I get it- how it feels to have-”  
  
“You know how it _feels?”_ Bellamy cut him off, his voice a growl.  
  
Vaughn blinked. “Bellamy-”  
  
“You think your ex-girlfriend getting arrested for treason is _anything_ like what just happened to me?” Bellamy interrupted again, his fists clenching tighter.  
  
“Look, man,” Vaughn said, holding up his hands, palms out. “I just mean, it sucks. It really sucks, and I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do-”  
  
“What exactly do you think you can _do?”_ Bellamy snarled. “Can you bring my mother back through that airlock? Can you get my sister out of the SkyBox? No? So then shut the hell up about what you can’t _possibly_ understand.”  
  
Now it was Vaughn’s turn to clench, his body going rigid. “Hey,” he protested, an edge to his voice. “I get that you’re upset, but I just came to tell you I’m here for you. Maybe if you learned how to let people in, you’d get that. Maybe if you’d let _me_ in before this, I could have helped you.” He shook his head, letting out a breath, and this time Bellamy heard a touch of hurt in his voice as he added, “How could you not tell me about her?”  
  
Bellamy just stared at him, not quite able to believe what had just come out of his mouth. _“What_ did you just say?”  
  
Vaughn shook his head. “Nevermind. You obviously don’t want to talk.” When he turned for the door, Bellamy’s hand snapped out and he grabbed him, yanking him back around.  
  
He punched him so hard that even through the numbness of his body, he felt the sting of the hit. Vaughn went down hard, coughing blood onto the floor, the red splattering across the panel that had been opened again and again over the years to keep his sister safe.  
  
Before he even knew what was happening, Bellamy was on top of Vaughn and he had a fist full of Vaughn’s shirt in his hand as he punched him again and then again, almost methodically, reeling back the hand exactly the same amount and thrusting it forward with the exact same level of force. Vaughn belatedly brought up an arm, blocking the next hit and then countering with a punch of his own, catching Bellamy in the jaw before he reeled backward, tearing out of Bellamy’s grip and clambering back up to his feet.  
  
Bellamy stayed on the floor. He watched as Vaughn raised a hand to his face, wiping away the blood from his nose. His face was already starting to bruise as he stared at Bellamy, his eyes full of shock and hurt as he shook his head. “You know you could be arrested for that?”  
  
“My whole _life_ has been an arrestable offense,” Bellamy answered, and though he knew he felt emotional about it, his voice sounded flat. “Don’t you _get_ it?”  
  
Vaughn was silent for a long moment and then he said quietly, “No. I guess I don’t. But I’m trying, and that should count for something. It should count for a hell of a lot more than a punch in the face, don’t you think?”  
  
Bellamy’s shoulders slumped and he felt like he was sinking into the floor. Then he was wishing he could really do that, wishing he could curl into the hole and feel close to her, pretend she was right beside him. He wished he could feel her tuck her tiny body into his and hear her whisper in her little baby voice, _I love Bell._ Wished he could make everything okay again, take all this back and keep her safe in that floor forever.  
  
Vaughn let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “Alright. I’m going now, Bellamy. If you figure out how to let me be here for you, I will be.”  
  
Bellamy registered the sound of footsteps, the sound of the door opening and closing. The silence was deafening, so he whispered, “She had a crush on you, you know.”  
  
But he knew Vaughn didn’t know that. Just like he had no idea what Bellamy was going through, or what he was going to have to go through next. He had no clue how this felt. Nobody did. Nobody ever could.  
  
He pulled slowly to his feet and went back to bed. His quarters seemed huge suddenly, like a gaping chasm of loss.  
  
It was very lonely place to fall asleep.


	52. 52- Octavia

She had a week of quarantine, a week of being alone except for the times she had to endure Santos- who wanted to be called Maria but who Octavia refused to call Maria. She had started eating again, but only because she was never good at starving, and eating was all she could really do in that room. The food was better than any she’d ever had on Factory, except those rare treats that Bellamy used to bring her, which were decadent beyond belief.  
  
At the end of that first week Santos told her, “Today you’ll be moved into general population. You’ve passed all your tests and we’re no longer worried for your health.”  
  
“I _told_ you,” Octavia growled at her, but as usual Santos didn’t seem to notice her tone. It was so aggravating.  
  
“Well, you were right,” she said, smiling. “And I’ve already arranged where you’ll be going. Your cellmate is someone I’m also seeing, and I think she’ll be a good match for you.”  
  
“Good,” Octavia retorted. “We can talk about you behind your back.” But she felt terror rumbling in her stomach like a riot.  
  
“I know you’re scared,” Santos said gently. “But is attacking me going to change that?” When Octavia only shrugged she went on, “Do you have any questions?”  
  
That was a hard one. _Did_ she? Yes, she did- about a thousand. But also none at all. And she didn’t want to give Santos the satisfaction of predicting her behaviour any more than she already had, so she shook her head and said, “No.”  
  
She felt a growing sense of anxiety as Santos got to her feet and walked towards the door, pulling it open. Now she was being asked to step into another long corridor, into another unknown place where she would meet more strangers who didn’t love her. She wrung her hands together, trying not to show Santos just how scared she was, but unable to hold it all in.  
  
“It’s okay,” Santos said gently, reaching out an arm towards her.  
  
Octavia pulled in a long breath, swallowing a little, forcing her body to straighten. She walked to the door but dodged the woman’s outstretched arm as she stepped outside the room for the first time in a week.  
  
They walked down the corridor side-by-side, but Octavia tried not to be comforted by her presence beside her.  
  
The room she was taken to wasn’t much larger than the isolation cell, and was smaller than her family’s own quarters, but it had doubles of everything her cell had, so she knew it was made for two people. She looked to Santos, trying to seem brave.  
  
Before either of them could say anything else, another girl walked into the room, stopping short as she saw Octavia. Then she saw Santos, and a smile broke over her face. “Hi, Maria. Oh shit, is this her?”  
  
“This is her,” Santos agreed, nodding her head, not seeming surprised at all as the girl gave her a friendly hug. Dryly she added, “Language.”  
  
Octavia took a nervous step back as the girl turned her attention over to her, and she felt like shrinking under her intense gaze as she approached. She had pale skin, honey blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail, brown eyes so dark they hardly had pupils, and a sharp chin that jutted out a little as she scrutinised Octavia. She looked about her age, maybe a little older, not that she had enough experience to really judge.  
  
“So,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is it true they found you hiding under the floor? I heard you were curled up under a bulkhead and there were all kinds of wires on top of you.”  
  
Surprised by all that, Octavia blinked and then shook her head. “No.”  
  
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she went on, shrugging her shoulders. “That’s what everyone is saying, so that basically makes it true. You’re famous.”  
  
Octavia looked at Santos, not sure what to make of this girl, but Santos just gave her a gentle smile in return and said, “This is Quin. She talks a lot, but she’s harmless.”  
  
“Harmless might be going a bit far, Maria,” Quin said, flashing an impish grin.  
  
“Remember what we talked about,” Santos answered.  
  
Octavia narrowed her eyes, suspicious of their collusion, but then Santos was leaving and she and Quin were left alone with the door closed.  
  
Quin flopped onto one of the beds, and after a moment Octavia went to the other, sitting down on the edge. She looked around the room, trying to take it all in, tying to get used to the unfamiliarity. She wished the beds were cut into the wall, but they both sat out in the open, slightly away from the edges.  
  
She twisted her hands together in her lap, trying to figure out what to do, what to _say_ to this person she was now supposed to share this space with.  
  
But Quin spoke first. Turning her head towards Octavia and watching her hands for a moment, she waved her own hand and said, “Stop that. Relax already- you’re making me nervous.”  
  
“I don’t know _how_ to relax,” Octavia answered, shaking her head. “Do you have any idea what’s just happened to me?”  
  
Quin was silent for a moment, and then she said quietly, “My mother was floated too. Three years ago, but it feels like yesterday.”  
  
Octavia looked at her, hesitating for a moment, not sure what to say. She finally decided on, “Oh.”  
  
The other girl laughed a little. “You’re not going to say you’re sorry?”  
  
“Sorry?” Octavia asked, confused. “Why would I say that? _I_ didn’t float her.”  
  
Quin laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re a weirdo, you know that?”  
  
Octavia bristled a little, but the comment didn’t seem to be made in cruelty, so she just said, “I don’t care. I’ll be whoever I need to be as long as I can get out of here and go home to my brother.”  
  
“What’s that like, anyway?” Quin asked curiously. “Having a brother, I mean.”  
  
There was a long silence as Octavia considered the question and how exactly she should answer it. Eventually she settled for, “It’s great.”  
  
Quin let out a snort, shaking her head. “You need to learn to talk more.”  
  
Shrugging her shoulders, she told her, “I’m used to being quiet.”  
  
“Well,” Quin said, standing up and walking over to Octavia’s bed, sitting down next to her. “That’s going to change today. Here, you need to be loud. Here, you need to make sure people don’t fuck with you. This place is full of criminals, you know, and they eat timid little girls alive.”  
  
Octavia opened her mouth to protest that she _wasn’t_ timid or little, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look at this girl, her hands still curled together, holding on to each other for dear life. So she didn’t protest. Quin was right.  
  
“I’ll teach you how to survive in here,” Quin told her, gently. “It’s not that hard. What do you like? Girls? Boys? Both? Neither?”  
  
Finally looking at her, brow furrowing, Octavia was surprised by the options. Uncertainly she said, “Boys?” framing it as a question because she honestly wasn’t sure. Quin and the two doctors were the first women she’d ever seen that weren’t her mother, aside from girls around her at the dance, who she hadn’t had time to really observe properly.  
  
Quin laughed softly, shaking her head a little. “Okay, so it’s easy- flirt with the boys but keep them at arms length. And be nice to the girls, except the ones I tell you not to be nice to. Those ones you’ll have to fight- _if_ they try something first.”  
  
Octavia’s head spun from all the information. “I don’t know how to fight,” she said. “Or flirt. And how will I know if they… start something?”  
  
“Trust me,” Quin said. “You’ll know.” But she looked doubtful. “Okay, maybe I’m starting too fast for you. Let’s go back to basics- this is our cell. We stay in here all night, and the doors are unlocked for breakfast. Then we have classes until we break for lunch, then R&R until dinner. After that, it’s quiet time in the cell until lights out.”  
  
Octavia brightened. “We get to go to school?” she asked, happy about something for the first time since the dance.  
  
Quin slapped a hand against her forehead. “Oh man, don’t say that to _anyone,”_ she said with a groan. “Listen to me- you _hate_ school.”  
  
“I’ve never been,” Octavia protested, deflating a little. “I’ve always wanted to.”  
  
“Well, in here, you hate it- or else you’re going to get messed with. Okay?”  
  
Letting out a breath, Octavia nodded her head and said quietly, “Okay.” She would keep her excitement to herself, but it was still there.  
  
“Alright,” Quin went on with a nod. “So that’s what life here is like. The only break is Visitor’s Day, which is once a month unless the SkyBox is sealed for some reason- like for illness or security.”  
  
“When’s the next Visitor’s Day?” Octavia asked immediately, her heart quickening a little.  
  
“I think two weeks,” Quin answered with a small shrug. “No one visits me.”  
  
“My brother will come,” Octavia said, her voice firm. Two weeks- she only had to survive two weeks in this place, and then he’d come and they’d figure something out together.  
  
“Well, then maybe you can introduce us,” Quin said after a moment. “But until then, focus or you’re not going to _last_ until the next Visitor’s Day.”  
  
That got Octavia’s attention, and she frowned a little. “Don’t the guards have to make sure we don’t hurt each other?” she asked apprehensively.  
  
Quin let out a snort. “The guards are babysitters,” she said. “They’re here to make sure we don’t _kill_ each other, but that’s about it. They’re not our friends.”  
  
Octavia was used to guards not being their friends, so she just shrugged. “How many of us are there in this place anyway?”  
  
“I don’t know the exact number right now,” Quin said with a shrug. “About a hundred I think, give or take. Every few weeks someone turns eighteen and leaves, and someone else comes in, like you.”  
  
“Leaves,” Octavia repeated. “You mean gets floated?”  
  
“Yeah, or reviewed and pardoned,” Quin agreed. “But that’s rarer.” She let out a breath, her eyes falling to the floor for a moment as she added, “Most of us are living on borrowed time.”  
  
“Santos says I can get out,” Octavia told her. “She says that’s her job.”  
  
Quin let out a huff, shaking her head. “Yeah, it is. But she fails a lot.” Raising her head again she scrutinised Octavia for a long moment, while Octavia tried not to squirm under that gaze. Then Quin said, “I guess it might be different for you. You’re in here just for being a second kid, right? Not for anything else? You didn’t attack the guards when they came to get you or anything?”  
  
“No,” she said, shaking her head, feeling a swell of anger at the unfairness of it all. “I didn’t do _anything.”  
  
_ “Then it’s bullshit you’re even in here,” Quin said bluntly. “But yeah- you probably will get a review, _and_ be pardoned. You’re lucky.”  
  
“But what about you?” Octavia asked her, feeling her heart sink a little. Was she talking to someone who was condemned? Someone who would be dead in a year or two?  
  
But Quin was silent, and she didn’t answer the question. She just said, “Come on, let’s go eat already. I’m sick of this cell.”  
  
Octavia felt an instant rush of panic. Immediately she said, “I’m not hungry.”  
  
Quin gave her an ‘oh, come on’ look. “You and I both know that’s not true. You have to go out there eventually.”  
  
But as soon as they were outside the cell, Octavia’s shoulders slumped forward and her hands wrung together. She wished she could disappear, and she tried to desperately, even as she followed Quin out. They were in a huge chasm of a room, with many floors of identical cell doors, and at the bottom she could see what looked like a mess hall.  
  
She glanced back for a moment, her heart gripping. “Quin,” she said urgently. “How will we get back?” Every door looked exactly the same, and it felt scary, just like it had when she’d realised she couldn’t find her way home from the dance.  
  
“Can you read?” Quin asked her. When she nodded, she tapped on the door they were passing. “See these numbers? Ours is 816- so that’s level eight, cell sixteen. Remember that number and you’ll be fine.” She glanced at Octavia, pausing as she saw her body language. “Yeah, I’m probably not going to be leaving you alone anytime soon,” she said, shaking her head a little. “You’re a walking target.”  
  
“Why are you helping me?” Octavia couldn’t help but ask.  
  
“Maria,” Quin answered, shrugging. “She said it would earn me brownie points- maybe stop me from getting floated in ten months when my number’s up.” So, she was older than Octavia, by over a year. She found that strangely comforting.  
  
Octavia was overwhelmed by all the firsts she was being confronted with after a lifetime of same, and the next first was an elevator ride, down to that bottom floor where kids filled chairs tucked into tables, some of them eating while others played games or read from tablets, alone or in small groups.  
  
Again she was struck by the variety of people- of body shapes and sizes, colours, hair, movements, postures, expressions… everything about them.  
  
“Come on,” Quin said, keeping her moving, the two of them headed for the food distributor. Octavia couldn’t help but notice all the gazes that followed her, and she kept her own eyes on the floor, wishing so badly she could disappear.  
  
“Numbers?” the woman at the food dispensary asked, her voice flat and bored.  
  
“2-1-3,” Quin told her, and was handed a food tray. But when the woman raised an eyebrow at Octavia, she just stared back blankly, until Quin nudged her with an elbow. “Prisoner number,” she hissed. “The one they gave you at intake?”  
  
Octavia wracked her brain for all the things that had been said or told to her, the way she’d been photographed and fingerprinted and retina scanned and catalogued. It had all been so overwhelming. But then she remembered a small slip of paper that Santos had pressed into her hand, and she pulled it out of her pocket now, looking at it for the first time.  
  
Written in a delicate hand, it said, _Octavia Blake, Prisoner 1-6-7. Cell 816._ Then, underneath all that information, it said, _Don’t forget to breathe.  
  
_ Octavia pulled in a long breath and let it out slowly, then raised her face to the woman, who still had her eyebrow raised in expectation. “1-6-7,” she said.  
  
“What?” the woman asked, frowning, leaning forward. “Speak up, girl.”  
  
Pulling in another breath, Octavia did her best to be loud and repeated, “1-6-7.”  
  
She was handed a tray of food, and then Quin took her arm and pulled her back toward one of the empty tables. Octavia was glad she’d chosen one in the corner, and she leaned her back against the wall, feeling a bit safer as she did so. But she still wasn’t hungry. Her gaze darted around the room, alighting briefly on each face as she nervously took in her surroundings.  
  
Then she realised that Quin was scrutinising her, eyes narrowed and gaze intense, and again it made Octavia want to squirm. Finally she asked, “What?”  
  
But the older girl just shook her head and dropped her eyes to her tray, stabbing at the food with her fork. Finally she muttered, “I’d _better_ get pardoned for this shit.”


	53. 53- Bellamy

The janitor’s uniform was baggy, made of heavy cloth, and itchy around the neck. The greyish-blue reminded him of what he’d read in literature- generic workers for a generic purpose, each one interchangeable with the next. He despised it.  
  
Three days after his sister had been ripped from his arms and his mother had been floated out an airlock, Bellamy’s official bereavement leave was up. He reported to his first day in sanitation because his rations had been slashed, and if he missed work they’d be reduced even more.  
  
He scrubbed floors covered in piss and oil and blood and every other kind of muck imaginable. He unclogged toilets, wiped down walls, and sanitised the most disgusting places on the Ark.  
  
Everyone seemed to know who he was.  
  
“Holy shit, it’s the guy with the sister!”  
  
“What, your mother couldn’t keep her legs closed? Selfish bitch.”  
  
“How can you even show your face?”  
  
These were the kinds of comments that followed him on his rounds in sanitation.  
  
“Siblings are an abomination- _illegal._ How can you even live with yourself? How could the council let you walk?”  
  
“Stealing rations from other people’s mouths for sixteen years- they should have floated your whole family!”  
  
But there were a few kind words too. “I’m sorry about your mother,” said softly by a woman in the science lab, carried him for half of that first day. A man told him, “I can’t imagine the kind of life you’ve had to live… I hope they let your sister come home soon,” and that carried him for the rest of it.  
  
He pushed his cart from one end of the Ark to the other, found himself in the most disgusting corners of Farm station, full of fertiliser and reeking stenches of imitation soil, and then to the richest sections of Alpha, where tiny families of three lived in big quarters, multiple rooms with windows and skylights, bathtubs and televisions. He couldn’t stand either end, or the way the people who didn’t know who he was looked right through him- just another lowly janitor.  
  
By the time he got home on that first day, he couldn’t imagine ever going back there. He pulled in huge breaths, long and shaking and horrible, each one like a shard in his chest. Even his quarters weren’t a haven- from the cruel words and prying eyes, yes, but not from the awful memories, which were even worse. His quarters were like a tomb to all that he’d lost- every missing item in his home a keen reminder of the two women who had made his life complete.  
  
But he’d had to go back to work the next day, and then back again the day after that. Every day sucked the life out of him, but he had no choice.  
  
Now, alone in his quarters after another torturous eight hours, he felt isolation like a gaping mouth threatening to swallow him whole. It was good the guard had taken his gun, because he was scared of what he might have done with it had they not.  
  
Even still, no matter how awful his life was, no matter how hollow and lonely and devastated he felt, he knew he had to keep going. Octavia still needed him. Visitor’s Day was only six short days away. His mother had called it a touchstone, something for both of them to hold onto, and he intended to make it just that. He would walk into the SkyBox and show his sister that she still had reason to hope- that they both did.  
  
He knew that whatever he was going through now, what she must have been enduring in lockup had to be so much worse. He just wished he could take that pain away from her. He would endure anything, if only she would be okay, and it killed him not knowing how she was doing, where she was, whether she needed him. He _knew_ she did.  
  
He felt his drastically changed world closing around him like a fist, small and narrow and miserable. When he wasn’t at work, he laid in his bunk with the room dark, the only source of light the small red numbers of the digital clock. He wouldn’t sleep, but instead just stare up at the ceiling, his ears straining to hear the breathing of his mother and sister in the night, even though he knew that was impossible.  
  
Bellamy had never slept alone in this room, not one day in his life, and now here he was, expected to do it every night for more than two years? How could he? How could Octavia do the same, sleeping without her family’s presence? It was too horrible even to imagine, yet they were both living it.  
  
Laying there, listening for sounds he would never hear again, he couldn’t help but think about how recently he’d roll over sometimes in the morning and look down at his mother’s bunk to watch Octavia, her face soft with slumber, her dark hair splayed over the pillow. In those moments he’d felt a pang of his own mortality, as though watching her grow up before his eyes had aged him in a way that nothing else could. With each year that passed she would never be that small again, each year precious in its impermanence.  
  
How would she change over these two years he was going to miss? How would they _both_ change? When she got out, she’d be eighteen. He’d be nearly twenty-five. It seemed unfathomable, that he would miss her transition into adulthood, the last two years that she would still be, technically, a child. _His_ child.  
  
Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut and pulled in a breath, forcing air into his lungs and then forcing it back out again as if he could breathe away his pain. He shoved away those dark thoughts and tried to focus on anything good that came to mind, but there was nothing. So he made his mind a blank instead, not thinking of anything at all.  
  
It was the sound of a knock at the door that finally pulled him from his stupor, and he turned his head, looking over at it. Leave it to Vaughn to not know when to stop, to push and push despite the fact that all he was going to get was another punch in the face.  
  
Bellamy rolled off the bed, actually looking forward to hitting him again, not because it was Vaughn, but just because it was something real- a true and visceral feeling he could process in a tangible way.  
  
After the second knock, Bellamy stalked to the door and yanked it open. But Vaughn wasn’t standing there.  
  
Roman was.  
  
For a moment Bellamy just stared at the man, trying to wrack his brain to remember the last time he’d seen him, but he couldn’t. His presence in their lives, once such a violent, terrifying threat, had long ago faded to nothing.  
  
Bellamy was so surprised by Roman’s appearance that the older man was already inside before he had a chance to say, “What the hell are you doing here?”  
  
“I want to talk,” Roman said, looking around the room as though he, too, was trying to remember the last time he’d seen it.  
  
Stalking a short distance away, Bellamy stood on the balls of his feet, clenching a fist at his side. “I’m not good company right now. And I don’t want to talk to you at the best of times. So get out.” His jaw felt like stone.  
  
“Is she okay?” Roman asked him, ignoring everything he’d said.  
  
Bellamy just stared at him. “Is she _okay?”_ he repeated, appalled. “You think you have any right to ask me that? You think you have any right to _anything?”_  
  
“She’s my daughter,” Roman countered, his back stiffening in time with Bellamy’s. “Aurora might not have let her be, but you and I both know it’s true.”  
  
Of _course_ it was true. Right now, he was staring Bellamy down with Octavia’s eyes in his head, with the angular twist of her jaw, and it was painful to look at. It was her face and not her face, a man he despised and not the sister he adored. He wanted to murder him with his bare hands for trying to claim her now.  
  
“So she’s your daughter,” he said, his voice edged with fury. “So what? What could that _possibly_ mean now? My mother is dead, my sister is locked up, and you’re here for what- to get on the list for Visitor’s Day? Is that it? To go and see her and finally tell her who you are?”  
  
Roman was silent, which is how Bellamy knew he wasn’t far off. He let out a laugh, but there was no humour in it. Taking a step closer to Roman he bit out, “That’s it, isn’t it? You figure now that my mother is dead and Octavia’s locked up, you can get at her?”  
  
“Calm down,” Roman said, an edge rising in his voice. “I have a right to see Octavia. She’s _mine.”_  
  
“Don’t say her name,” Bellamy snapped, his whole body tensing as Roman pronounced it. “Don’t even say it. You have no right. She is _not_ yours, she’s _mine,_ and if you so much as go _near_ her, so help me God-”  
  
Roman let out a snort, cutting him off. “Boy, your mother screwed you up so bad you don’t even recognise it yourself,” he said, shaking his head. “Aurora had some problems. She may not have wanted me around, but do you think that was because of _me,_ or because of _her?”_  
  
“I think it was because you used to beat her senseless,” Bellamy said, stepping closer, not even taking satisfaction when Roman took a step back. “Oh yeah,” he said, his voice cooler by the second. “I remember that.”  
  
“You don’t know what you remember,” Roman said, but Bellamy heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice and he seized his opportunity. He jabbed out with a fist, catching Roman in the side in one sharp movement, feeling a rib crack. Roman grabbed his side, letting out a huff of breath, his eyes going wide. He stared at Bellamy in disbelief. “You could be floated!”  
  
“And so could you, for fathering a second child,” Bellamy retorted, seeing Roman flinch a little. “I remember that too.”  
  
“Look-”  
  
Bellamy grabbed Roman around the neck and shoved him against the wall, squeezing so hard that he couldn’t say anything else. He stopped short of closing his airway, but he could see he’d scared the man. “I’m not good company right now,” he said again, his voice like ice, his eyes on fire as he looked into Roman’s. “Now get _out,_ or you’ll wish you had.”  
  
“Bellamy?” a tentative voice asked from the doorway, surprising him from his anger momentarily. He must have forgotten to close the door. Turning his head, he saw Gina standing there, glancing between the two of them, her brown eyes full of uncertainty. “Um… I should go,” she said hastily, turning.  
  
“No,” Bellamy answered, almost reflexively, making her pause. “Stay.” He looked back to Roman, glared at him, then let go of his neck with a forceful shove. Under his breath he said, “Get the hell out of here and never come back, or your kid will know what it feels like to watch a parent get floated.”  
  
After Roman turned, red-faced, and stormed from the room, Gina stepped inside and shut the door. “Are you okay?” she asked tentatively, not approaching him.  
  
“I’m fine,” he said, and it struck him that he had no idea why he’d said it. After all, they both knew it wasn’t true.  
  
When she just stood there for a moment, shifting her weight slowly from one foot to the other, he asked her, “Did Vaughn send you?”  
  
Gina let out a breath and shook her head. “No. He did tell me what happened, though. He thought I should give you a bit of space, but I wanted to see how you’re doing.”  
  
Bellamy shook his head as he walked over to his mother’s bunk, the only one that still had a mattress, and sat down. After a moment Gina moved over and joined him, and he felt a swell of relief, not having realised how much it was bothering him to think she might be scared of him.  
  
The ceiling of the bunk was low, so they both had to lean forward to keep clear of it. Bellamy stared at his hands, flexing the fingers of his right a bit, feeling the shape of Roman’s rib against his knuckles.  
  
“Who was that man?” she asked quietly.  
  
He shook his head, knowing it wasn’t his place to say- not really. If Octavia ever wanted to claim Roman, that was her choice, though he hoped she wouldn’t. So he just said, “No one. Someone who knew my mother… giving his condolences.”  
  
A long silence passed between them that was neither fully comfortable nor uncomfortable, and then, softly she said, “I’m really sorry.”  
  
Bellamy turned his head, searching her eyes, and she looked truly sorry- compassionate, sympathetic. Absolutely sincere.  
  
Again she said, “I’m really sorry, Bellamy. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, or what you’ve _been_ going through… the secrets you’ve had to keep… the things you’ve had to do. And losing them both in one day- that must have been… God, just heartbreaking.” She reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his and squeezing gently as she gave him a soft smile. He watched tears gather in her eyes as she said, “I’m here for you. And if part of being here for you is _not_ being here- if you need space- then that’s fine too. But you’re not alone, Bellamy.”  
  
He let out a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment, letting her compassion roll over him like a gift. Then he opened his eyes again and gazed at her for a long moment before he reached out a hand, sliding it into her hair. He watched her brow furrow in confusion but only for a split second before he closed his eyes and pulled her into his lips, kissing her hungrily.  
  
Bellamy felt her body resist for a moment, hesitate, felt tension spreading through her limbs, could almost hear her inner struggle of trying to decide what to do, how to respond. But he couldn’t focus on that. He didn’t want to focus on _anything,_ just her lips and her body pressed against his, and the sense of distraction that they both allowed.  
  
When he felt her body soften and her lips open, he found her tongue with his and though he tried to be tender he knew he was drinking her in with a thirst that was at once overwhelming and destructive.  
  
He grabbed her hips and pulled her into his lap, letting her knees settle on either side of him, sliding his hands under her shirt to stroke her back, his lips never leaving hers. He found her bra and tugged at the hooks.  
  
Gina’s hands reached back to seize his and she wrapped her fingers around his wrists, pulling her lips away from his at the same time that she pulled his hands from under her clothes. She leaned her forehead against his for a moment, both of them breathing hard, and he opened his eyes, watching a war rage across her face.  
  
Finally she looked at him, and then she said, “Bellamy…”  
  
He knew there had to be more to what she wanted to say, but she only said his name and then fell silent, just watching him.  
  
But the moment was over anyway. All the dark thoughts came rushing back, and somehow they felt more severe because of their brief absence. Bellamy pushed her sideways, not roughly, off his lap and stood up, pacing to the other side of the room, where he rested his forearms against the wall and pressed his face into them, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could, as though he could shut out the world, this pain.  
  
Gina’s voice from behind him was hesitant as she said, “I’m sorry.”  
  
He cringed then, forcing himself away from the wall, turning to face her, shaking his head. “Don’t be,” he said softly, meaning it. “You don’t want to be used- I get that. Sorry I tried.”  
  
She gave him the smallest smile, and then she stepped closer to him, sliding her hands over his shoulders, up his neck, and into his hair. She just gazed at him for a long moment, holding his eyes, and then she tipped her chin up and caught his lips, kissing him tenderly, a kiss that lasted only a moment. “One day, maybe,” she said as she released him, stepping backward. “But not today. Neither of us need that right now.”  
  
He just watched her for a moment, surprised by her words, momentarily distracted again. Quietly he said, “I didn’t mean…” But he trailed off, not even sure what he was going to say. He didn’t mean to hurt her? Didn’t mean to show her his vulnerability? Didn’t mean to let her surprise him?  
  
Gina smiled that pretty smile of hers and shook her head. “We’re okay,” she assured him. “And I meant what I said before- you’re not alone.”  
  
Bellamy gazed at her, not quite sure what to make of her, but then he just nodded. He watched her leave, and then after a while he went back to his mother’s bunk and sat down again. That night there were the same nightmares he always had- Octavia trapped, needing him, being unable to reach her- but there was also one tiny reprieve- a dream of Gina’s full lips on his, her eyes half-lidded, looking up at him, and her waves of dark hair sliding through his fingers.


	54. 54- Octavia

“So,” Santos said, once Octavia was seated in the chair across from her. “How have your first few days been?”  
  
Octavia was silent. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around the little room. The décor was neutral, calming, generic- nothing personal. It was clearly a room used by many people for many different purposes. She hated it.  
  
“Hey,” Santos said gently, drawing her eyes back. “We’re here to talk, remember? You don’t have to, but it will make things easier.”  
  
“Easier for _you,_ you mean,” Octavia snapped, feeling like fighting. The last few days had been horrible- people were always whispering about her whenever she entered a room, and kids teased her to her face and behind her back. She didn’t know any of the unspoken rules and was terrible at picking up the subtle cues of body language and innuendo. Her only reprieve was her growing friendship with Quin, and the safety of her cell, but she hated that she was yet again restricted to one kind person in one safe, tiny, suffocating space. Octavia was miserable.  
  
Gently Santos interrupted her thoughts, “Easier for both of us. The more you talk, the more I can help you.”  
  
“Help me go home, right?” Octavia said, her voice clipped and challenging.  
  
She nodded, forever calm. “That’s the plan.”  
  
“But _when?”  
  
_ Santos was silent for a long moment, and then she asked, “When do you think would be a good time?” She was always doing that- answering questions with a question. It was incredibly irritating.  
  
“Today,” Octavia told her frankly. She compromised just a little and added, “Or tomorrow, at the latest.”  
  
“Well, see, I disagree,” the woman said, shaking her head a little. “You might be ready- arguably, mind you- to go _home,_ but that’s not our aim. Our aim is bigger than sending you back to your brother, back to that room you grew up in. Our aim is to send you into _society,_ and do you really think you’re ready for that today, or tomorrow, or even next month?”  
  
Octavia was quiet, knowing she couldn’t argue with that, but wanting to- desperately. Finally she tried, “I could learn. Bellamy could teach me.”  
  
“He could try,” Santos said patiently, nodding her head. “But do you think your brother knows a lot about how to fit into society himself?”  
  
She frowned. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, he may not have been locked in your quarters like you were, but from the way you’ve described how he looked after you, I get the sense he spent quite a lot of time in there. And maybe even when he was out- at school, say, or at cadets- you have to admit that even to those he was closest with, he would have had to keep the biggest part of his life a secret. His relationships, his behaviour, have never been authentic.”  
  
“He’s _authentic_ with me,” Octavia protested.  
  
To her annoyance, Santos smiled. “Exactly. You were the centre of his world. Right now you’re both going through an adjustment to a life you’ve never expected- one that doesn’t include one another. I know it’s traumatic.”  
  
Octavia let out a long breath, feeling a deep pang in her heart as she thought of Bellamy, of what he might be doing right now. Was he okay without her? She squirmed a little in her seat, not liking that train of thought. Would it be better if he was okay without her, or better if he wasn’t? Which would hurt less?  
  
“Remember how we talked about rehabilitation?” Santos asked her gently, once more drawing her from her thoughts. “That’s where we prove to the council that you can be a productive member of society on the Ark. Up to now, you haven’t been- that’s how _they_ see it. But I happen to believe you have an incredible amount of potential.”  
  
“Meaning what?” Octavia asked suspiciously.  
  
“Meaning that despite the fact that you’ve never gone to school, you scored pretty well on those aptitude tests I gave you the other day.”  
  
Shrugging a little, Octavia said, “Like I told you, I used to do homework with Bellamy.”  
  
“Which is impressive in and of itself,” Santos said with a nod. “Considering your age difference.”  
  
All of the compliments were making Octavia uncomfortable and she couldn’t help but think it was some kind of trap. “Yeah, well, we’ll see when I start school next week,” she said, trying to deflect.  
  
“And how are you feeling about that?” Santos asked her, rolling with the topic change as she always did. “Nervous? Excited?”  
  
She shifted a little, of course feeling both of those emotions, but also about a thousand others she couldn’t necessarily put her finger on. So she just shook her head, saying nothing.  
  
Gently Santos told her, “Half of school is about learning, and half of it is about getting to know other people. You have a good start with Quin, but there will be a lot of other kids there. Lots of different personalities.”  
  
Again she couldn’t help but think of the overwhelming differences she’d already been introduced to- differences in shapes, sizes, colours, mannerisms… she could only imagine the extent of the varying personalities Santos was talking about. She expected it to be overwhelming, and she was sure it would be.  
  
“It’ll be okay,” Santos said gently. “Just take it slow, like everything else, and remember to breathe. Some of it will be scary, and some of it will be great. But you have to be patient- nothing happens overnight.”  
  
“I’m not good at patience,” Octavia complained.  
  
“Are you sure about that?” Santos asked her, with a curious tilt of her head. “Living in a tiny room without much entertainment for almost sixteen years shows an impressive amount of patience, by my estimation.”  
  
Shrugging her shoulders, Octavia changed the subject. “How can I get books?”  
  
“What kind of books?” Santos asked her, looking surprised.  
  
“Mythology. My mother used to read it to us, and Bellamy used to retell the stories to me.” She felt an ache as she said it, those memories coming back unbidden, making a lump rise in her throat. She swallowed it down and said softly, “They… it would help.”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do,” Santos said gently. “Okay?”  
  
Octavia nodded, but she didn’t thank her. Instead she said, “I’m tired. Can I go back to my cell now?”  
  
“Just a little longer,” Santos assured her. “Tell me about how things are going with Quin.”  
  
“She seems nice,” Octavia told her. “Even though she’s only being my friend because she thinks it’ll keep her from getting floated.”  
  
“That’s not it,” Santos said, shaking her head. “I put you two together so she could help you, that’s true, but her being your friend- that’s something I hoped for, but not something I forced.”  
  
“And will it?” Octavia asked quietly after a moment. “Being my friend, I mean… will it help her?”  
  
“Are you hoping it will?” Santos asked her gently. “You’re hoping she won’t be floated?”  
  
“Of ­ _course_ I am,” Octavia said with a frown. “She’s my friend. And also it’s just wrong to float people.”  
  
“Especially kids,” Santos said, her voice soft. She let out a long breath, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, of the ones who’ve been under my care, I’ve seen more floated than not.”  
  
“That’s _wrong,”_ Octavia said firmly.  
  
She smiled, her eyes sad. “You won’t get any arguments from me.”  
  
“So is it you?” Octavia asked her, unable to resist being cruel, feeling like Santos was getting too close. “You said of the kids under _your_ care, most of them have been floated. So maybe it’s _your_ fault.”  
  
The woman’s smile faded a little, and she was silent for a moment. “I often work with the lost causes,” she said finally. “I volunteer to take them because half the time they’ve already been earmarked for floating. I consider saving _any_ of them to be a win. Would I like to save more? Of course I would. But I do what I can… I don’t give up on them. Not like everyone else has.”  
  
“So is that what I am?” Octavia asked her hesitantly, scared of the answer now. “A lost cause? Has _my_ death sentence already been decided?”  
  
“No,” Santos answered firmly. “I wasn’t lying to you when I said you have a real chance of getting out of here. I didn’t take you because you’re a doomed, Octavia. I took you because I wanted to make absolutely sure you had the best possible chance. You deserve it.”  
  
Octavia pulled to her feet, twisting her hands together a little, feeling overwhelmed. She paced to the wall, then turned back, leaning against it, feeling a little better with the firm metal behind her. “I really am tired,” she said finally.  
  
Santos watched her for a moment and then stood as well, nodding her head. “That’s okay, I think this is a good place to stop anyway. But think about what we’ve talked about, and I’ll see you next time.”  
  
Nodding her head, Octavia left the little office and went to the guard who was to escort her back to her cell. She kept her distance from him as they walked, still nervous around guards, wary of their motives. Mostly they reminded her of the men who’d hurt her mother, though the uniform simultaneously gave her a strange pang of longing for Bellamy. He ignored her, which she felt was preferable to anything else he might have said or done.  
  
Once she was back in her cell, she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the click of the lock behind her. Despite the fact that she knew she was safe here, being unable to leave never ceased to make her feel claustrophobic. Once the door was locked, she pulled in a few long breaths, letting them out slowly, before she finally opened her eyes again, trying to relax herself by sheer force of will.  
  
“You alright there?” Quin asked dryly from her bed, putting down the book she’d been reading and arching an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m fine,” Octavia said shortly, going to her bed, flopping down on the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, at the screws in the panels she’d counted a hundred times. There were ninety-three of them. She worked her fingers together, reassuring herself with the clenching of her hands. “Santos talks too much.”  
  
Quin giggled, nodding her head. “You can say that again. Just take one of her colouring books. Then at least you can do something while she goes on and on.”  
  
“What colouring books?” Octavia asked, confused.  
  
“She has all these books full of calming pictures and stuff all in black and white, and she’ll give you some coloured pens to fill them in,” Quin explained. “She says it soothes the mind.”  
  
It sounded like fun, like something Octavia might actually enjoy, but she just shrugged and said, “Well, she’s never offered me one.”  
  
Quin smiled wryly at her. “She must think your mind is calm enough. Mine, however, is _always_ spinning.”  
  
“Is that why _you_ talk so much?” Octavia asked her, equally wry. That earned her a pillow sailing through the air towards her head, but she caught it and threw it right back, giggling a little, feeling her chest loosen the tiniest bit- feeling just a little less alone. Whatever else, it was nice to have a friend.


	55. 55- Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long, long delay in updating. Life really got away from me with lots of heartache and changes, but things have mostly settled and I'm going to make a bigger effort now as I really want to see this fic through!! Thanks to everyone still hanging in with me- it means a lot!

Bellamy made his way down the corridors of the Ark to the reclamation centre. It hadn’t been easy to save even a small number of rations from his meagre income, but he’d managed to do it. He was used to going hungry and he didn’t have much of an appetite either, so he simply skipped meals, and that plus working a few overtime hours when he could get them meant that he had a modest surplus of rations saved.  
  
He’d woken up with the idea a few days before- that maybe he could get Octavia’s necklace back, the globe he’d given her on her thirteenth birthday. If he could, then he could surprise her with it on Visitor’s Day, give her something to hold onto over the next two years, before she would come home to him. He wanted her to have something tangible that she could wear against her skin, under the clothes they’d given her… a constant reminder of what was real- of home.  
  
The reclamation centre was always busy, and today was no exception. Bellamy’s apprehension grew as he drew closer, because he knew the place would be well guarded. It wasn’t unusual for relatives of people who’d been floated to come there, desperate to regain personal belongings, the last ties to those who had disappeared out an airlock. Now, it was Bellamy in that position, and for a moment he felt a pang as he thought of his mother, wishing there was something of hers to recover. But what would there be? Her sewing box? Her needles and thread? Even if he located those items, he couldn’t be sure they would have been hers, because they were standard issue. Aurora hadn’t had any personal belongings of her own- everything she’d possessed, she’d given to her children.  
  
The moment he reached the centre, he saw the guards standing at the doors, and his heart sank as he recognised the telltale red hair that was easily identifiable as Vaughn’s, even with his back turned to Bellamy as it was now. Drawing in a long breath, he steeled himself and walked over to the entrance.  
  
Of course Vaughn saw him right away and hurried over. He looked as nervous as Bellamy felt as he said, “Hey man… how are you?”  
  
He shifted a little; it seemed like a weird question and he couldn’t help but give what was probably a weird answer, “I don’t really know.”  
  
“How’s Octavia, have you seen her?” Vaughn asked next.  
  
Bellamy had a visceral reaction to hearing his sister’s name spoken aloud- even the simple fact that people knew about her and could discuss her publically made him feel nervous and slightly sick to his stomach. He shrugged off the question and just shook his head. “Not yet. I won’t see her until Visitor’s Day.” As for how she was doing? He didn’t want to imagine.  
  
Vaughn nodded his head and smiled. “Well, that’s really soon, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Bellamy answered shortly.  
  
“You’re lucky you can visit her,” Vaughn offered.  
  
Bellamy felt a swell of anger at that comment and gritted his teeth, shouldering past him. “I don’t have much time before my shift starts,” he said, ignoring the feel of the younger man’s eyes on his back as he walked away.  
  
The goods in the reclamation centre were logically arranged, appearing very much like a bustling marketplace- racks of clothing, tables of watches and jewellery, displays of artwork and keepsakes. It was all for sale, but as he saw people bartering all around him, it felt like they were spending blood money.  
  
He knew every one of these items had belonged to someone whose body had burned up in Earth’s atmosphere, blown from an airlock for one crime or another. He wondered how many had been like his mother, technically guilty but innocent by any reasonable assessment. Should it be a crime to steal food when your family was starving? Should it be a crime to find yourself carrying life, and simply refuse to snuff it out? To raise it instead- imperfectly yes, but as best you could given your circumstances? As he saw it, in situations such as those it was the system that was guilty. In death, he felt his mother’s sins had softened.  
  
Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Bellamy moved over to the jewellery tables and began searching through the necklaces for his sister’s globe. He pictured that day he’d given it to her, the day she became a teenager, and he could see in his mind’s eye how her face had broken into a grin as she’d thrown herself into his arms. He remembered how his chest had swelled with happiness in that moment, and how he never felt at peace unless his sister was content.  
  
He looked for quite a while but couldn’t find the necklace, so he approached one of the workers, a young woman with soft brown eyes and long, plaited hair. He gave her a smile, hoping she could help him.  
  
She returned his smile in a way that let him know she thought he was cute, but he couldn’t think of anything anymore besides Octavia. “I remember that necklace,” she told him when he described it. “It was really pretty- unique.”  
  
“I bought it for my sister,” he told her, feeling that involuntarily churning of his stomach as he said those words out loud, and saw her eyebrows rise in shock at the taboo word. “It was taken from her when she went into the SkyBox,” he explained. “I want to give it back to her.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” the young woman said, shaking her head. “A piece like that is always popular… it was snapped up pretty quickly. You should have come right away.”  
  
His jaw tightened for a moment as he shook his head, disappointment like a bitter taste in the back of his throat. “I didn’t have the rations until now. Do you know who bought it?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said again, gently. “I can’t tell you that- we have a strict policy.”  
  
“How much?” he asked outright. “I’ll transfer you some rations for the information.”  
  
But she shook her head, growing nervous. “I can’t tell you. I could be floated.”  
  
Bellamy let out a humourless laugh, more of a short bark. “Well that’s ironic.”  
  
The woman frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
Picking up a handful of necklaces, he shook them at her in disgust. “Everything here belonged to the dead, or kids locked up and _waiting_ for death. And you sell it like it’s _nothing.”_  
  
Her face reddened enough that he could tell despite her dark skin and she snatched the necklaces back from him. “I’m sorry, but those people are _criminals,”_ she said shortly.  
  
Bellamy’s jaw clenched. “You’re not sorry at all,” he growled.  
  
“Okay,” Vaughn’s voice came suddenly from behind him, his hand clapping onto Bellamy’s shoulder. “That’s enough, come on.”  
  
Bellamy wrenched his shoulder out of Vaughn’s grip and whirled on him, clenching his fists. “Leave me alone!”  
  
“Calm _down,”_ Vaughn hissed, eyeing his fists with obvious nervousness. “Just take a breath. If you do something stupid, you’re not going to see Octavia and you’re definitely not-”  
  
“Dammit, stop saying her name!” he cut him off, the sound of it on anyone’s lips but his own and Aurora’s sounding wrong and like a violation, like danger. It was irriational but he couldn’t help the lifetime of conditioning.  
  
“Alright, we’re going for a walk,” Vaughn said firmly, and this time he seized Bellamy’s arm and hauled him from the reclamation centre and around the corner of the corridor, where he pushed him against the wall. “Are you _insane?”_ he hissed. “Do you _want_ to get floated?”  
  
“Maybe I do,” Bellamy snapped, shoving him off. But they lost eye contact as he glanced away, annoyed that Vaughn had made him feel stupid. Though he sometimes wanted to die, it wasn’t really true he wanted to be floated. He let out a breath and said, “You need to back off.”  
  
“No, _you_ need to think straight,” Vaughn retorted. “I’m serious. People are watching you, man, just _waiting_ for you to fuck up. I can’t protect you forever.”  
  
This was all a confusing revelation for Bellamy, who gave him a blank look in response. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“The guard,” Vaughn said impatiently. “You’re a cautionary tale. You were the first cadet from Factory to ever make it even _close_ to graduation. And all the while, you were living a double life- and you were doing it so well that absolutely no one suspected. You were committing crimes under the noses of the best guards on the Ark.” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “You ruffled a hell of a lot of feathers, Bellamy, and they are just _waiting_ for you to screw up so they can float you.”  
  
Bellamy’s heart was sinking into his feet, but not for his own sake. If that was how people felt about _him,_ then what about Octavia? Would she suffer because of the feathers he’d ruffled? Would she be floated in two years because of _his_ mistakes? Just like their mother?  
  
He turned around, pressing his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, trying to calm his tumultuous thoughts.  
  
When Vaughn’s hand tentatively settled on his shoulder, he didn’t shrug it off, or acknowledge it either. Once he’d been allowed to keep his hand there, Vaughn gently squeezed and said softly, “You know I’ll be here for you if you let me.”  
  
For a moment, he felt his walls trembling- not crumbling yet, but there were tiny cracks, fissures in his defences. There was a moment when he could have let them fall, and for that moment it felt good- the idea of letting Vaughn in, of having support, of not being so alone in all of this.  
  
But just as quickly that moment passed and he felt his back close up, as he shrugged out of Vaughn’s touch, turning to face him. “I’m fine, okay?” he said sharply. “I don’t have time for friends. I’m working sixty hours a week and I’m getting things ready for when Octavia comes home.” That last part made no sense and he knew it didn’t, but he gave Vaughn a stony face so he didn’t argue.  
  
Pushing past him and around the corner, Bellamy headed back into the reclamation centre. Vaughn didn’t follow him inside, and Bellamy told himself he was glad. He went back to the jewellery and gave the now-wary young woman a tight smile. “Okay then, the globe is gone,” he said. “So what can I get for a hundred ration points?”  
  
She was hesitant for a moment, but then she smiled and decided to help him. It was pitiful, really, what he could buy- just a small selection of necklaces and baubles, bracelets and earrings. It was another insult, that everything in the reclamation centre- everything that had been loved and carried by the dead- was extremely overpriced. He realised that he never would have been able to buy back Octavia’s globe anyway.  
  
In the end the only thing he could afford was a steel chain with a handmade pendant, repurposed from a hunk of metal and a nail, nothing special at all. It made him feel like a failure- he wanted to give her something that would show her how much she was loved, how special she was, not a lump of broken metal welded together so someone as poor as he was could say they owned jewellery.  
  
The woman must have seen how miserable he was as he held the thing in his hand, because she finally smiled properly at him and said, “It’s the thought that counts. How about I engrave something on it- I’ll only charge you ten more ration points if you keep it under six letters. That’s a good deal.”  
  
Even though ten ration points felt like a fortune right now, he nodded his head. He’d gone hungry for Octavia a hundred times- this was no different. Thinking for a moment, trying to decide what he wanted to put on it, it was suddenly all too clear.  
  
“Blake,” he told the woman, handing the pendant over.  
  
She smiled at him, taking the necklace back. “Is that your name?”  
  
“It’s _our_ name,” he answered, staring down the uncomfortable look that passed across her face for a moment. She turned away and got to work, probably wanting more than anything for him to leave.  
  
Putting Blake on the necklace wouldn’t just be for Octavia, it would be for his mother and for himself- to remind her that no matter what else happened, they were family and always would be. She just had to remember that, and she would survive the next two years. They both would.  
  
Once the necklace was back in his hand, he examined the careful letters that adorned the side of the metal casing that held the nail and a small, delicate steel tassel. Those five letters meant something much bigger than just his mother’s surname, or his and Octavia’s- it was an identity they shared, something no one could take away from them. Bellamy and Aurora had both had other forms of identity- Factory, the Ark. But Octavia had only ever had this one. Even now, though she was catalogued and recorded, she wasn’t really part of society. But she had always been, and would always be, part of the Blake family. In fact, she had defined it.  
  
Bellamy knew how his sister yearned to be included, to matter, to fit somewhere. To be real. So, he would walk in with this necklace on Visitor’s Day, clasp it around her neck, and remind her that no matter what happened inside the SkyBox, no matter what people said, she did belong. She had _always_ belonged.


End file.
